Survival of the Fittest
by archivedfics2013
Summary: NOW COMPLETE. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with no one but Peter was not how Olivia Dunham had intended to spend her week. Post Marionette, Polivia, multi-chap. Chapter 8 rated a tentative M.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note**: Well. Here I am. I wanted to write a post-Marionette fic, in fact, I did write one, but I never posted it. There are so many post-Marionette fics going around that I wanted to do something different. So, I present to you; a multi-chap, post-Marionette, with a storyline that is not about the episode. The storyline is something I've wanted to attempt for a while, with some of the post-Marionette angst in there too.

**Disclaimer:** If a fan girl like me owned Fringe … well, lets just say it's better I don't. I can't compete with the awesomeness that is JJ Abrams and everyone else, cast and crew, that works on this amazing show.

**Warning:** There'll be swearing, sexual references, some violence, and probably some sexual situations (hehe, I sound so grown up!), though the rating won't go up from T.

**Note:** I'm from Australia, so some words will be spelt differently (e.g. blond/blonde).

… … …

"Survival training."

The moment the words left Broyles' mouth, you would have thought he'd announced they were being made to swim across the Atlantic Ocean. A collective groan swept across the room from the gathered FBI agents. Broyles remained unfazed.

"All FBI agents will be partnered with the person they work closest with, and over the period of a week, each pair will have to complete three courses: navigation, physical training, and wilderness survival. You are not going to be graded on these tasks; it is simply for your own benefit." Broyles looked around the room, his face impassive towards to people who clearly looked like they thought they had a better idea of what would be best for 'their own benefit' than he did. "That being said, this course is compulsory for everyone. Failure to attend without my consent will have consequences." Everyone looked apprehensive at that; no one really wanted to find out what Broyles idea of consequences were. "I will email each of you the details. I expect everyone here in this room at 0700 Monday morning, no excuses." He looked across the room, his face revealing the slightest hint of humour at their reproachful expressions. "You are dismissed."

Olivia turned around, sighing. She'd had a feeling that this meeting could be about nothing good when she'd received the notice.

All FBI agents will be partnered with the person they work closest with. A bit over a year ago, she would have been partnered with Charlie, since he was an actual member of the FBI. Of course, she had no such luck now. She had initially thought perhaps she would be paired with Astrid, but apparently Junior Agents didn't have to take the workshop. Of course, that only left one other person.

Two months ago, she might have not minded doing this course with Peter, maybe even looked forward to it. Well, looked forward to having his company. It was amazing how much two months could change everything.

Ever since that night (as she had began referring to it in her mind) in Barrett's garden a few weeks ago, she had done her best to just not think about anything. Work was awkward, and she found herself travelling to suspects houses alone, and using her official office in the Federal Building more often than her office adjacent to Walter's lab. However, it was not when she was with him that she found it hardest to not think about everything that had happened; it was when she was alone, at home, that the thoughts would begin creeping up on her.

So she spent 85% of her time working these days, and then getting home in time to collapse on her bed and snatch a few precious hours of sleep, too tired to think. She knew that she probably looked like hell most of the time, but the darkness underneath her eyes would not go away. Her coping mechanism wasn't really a coping mechanism at all: it was an avoidance mechanism.

She knew that someday she was going to have to think about things, work out how she felt, talk things out with Peter, but for now, she would keep mainlining caffeine, working until she was half-dead, and then dropping off to sleep for a couple of hours, too tired to even begin to contemplate her own emotions. And the cases still got solved, and the paperwork was all in on time (early, even), so no one asked questions.

Spending a week with Peter was just going to open up a lot of wounds that hadn't had time to heal, and posing questions she was doing her best to ignore.

Olivia entered her office, closed the door behind her, and picked up a file on her desk, burying herself in it, her mind consumed by the words and the pictures, leaving no room for anything else.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she called, not looking up from the document. She heard the door open and close.

"Agent Dunham," Broyles' voice came from above her. She closed the file and took off her glasses.

"Sorry sir," she said, looking at him. "I was trying to get through the paperwork here …"

"I know," he said. "You've been completing your paperwork faster than I can throw it at you. Probably faster than anyone in this building."

Olivia could sense the disapproval in his voice. "Is that a bad thing?" she asked. Broyles looked her in the eyes. In that moment, she knew that none of this was fooling him.

"It's not like you," he said. "To spend so much time in the office. In this office. How long has it been since you've been down to Harvard?"

"I'm not sure," she said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant.

Broyles sighed. "I know you've been through a lot Olivia." She looked away, down at her papers. "And I know that what you've had to come home to face might have been even harder. But you've got to stop running yourself down like this - to be honest it worries me. You need to take some time for yourself."

"Are you ordering me not to do my paperwork?" Olivia asked incredulously. He shook his head.

"I'm not ordering you to anything," he replied. "I'm just advising you not to work yourself so hard. Take the time over the next week to work things over - I'm assuming you've gathered that you'll be paired with Mr Bishop?"She nodded. "Though, technically, he isn't FBI …" she said, a last ditch attempt she knew would fail. "I could work with Astrid, or Agent Jessup."

Broyles half-smiled at her. "You have to face him some time, Olivia," he said softly, and there was something warm, almost parent-like about his voice. She attempted a smile.

"You've made sure of that," she half-joked.

"Yes. I have," he replied. "Take care, agent Dunham," he said, heading back towards the door. "I'll see you 0700 hundred Monday morning." He exited the room quietly, and she sat for a moment.

Olivia was half-convinced he had set this whole thing up just to try get her to confront her own feelings about Peter. She shook the thought out of her mind. If that was true, he was either an absolute sadist, or a genuinely caring person. She decided there really wasn't much difference between the two.

With a shake of her head she returned to the paperwork, letting her mind and her emotions slip away in the black and white print.

She was dreading to week ahead.

… … …

**A/N: **It isn't much, but this is just the prologue; we'll get into the good stuff next chapter (which I've already written, so it should be up soon).

I like the idea that under his tough exterior, there's a Broyles who deeply cares about his team and about the people in it. The episode 'What Lies Below' popped into my mind, where Broyles said that there were people in that building (Olivia and Peter) that were like family to him. I liked Broyles a lot in that episode :).

Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow! Thankyou for all your lovely reviews; I was surprised I got so many, with only the first chapter! Thankyou everyone who reviewed, alerted or favourited, your feedback means a lot to me.

Once again, take note that I'm Australian, so excuse some differences in spelling. (eg. Humour/humor).

Oh, and this is Peter's POV: I think I'm going to do chapters alternating their POV, Olivia's, then Peter's, then Olivia's, and so forth.

No copyright inFRINGEment intended.

… … …

Peter sat in his car (_Walter's car_, he corrected himself), driving to the Federal building. Astrid was going to baby-sit Walter for the next week, while he and Olivia went to do this 'survival training' workshop. He sighed to himself, pulling the car into the car park.

He hadn't spoken to Olivia much since that night in Barrett's garden. He knew she was avoiding him, and he let her; everyone had their own ways of coping. His was sitting at home replaying her words in his head, over and over '_I don't want to wear my clothes, and I don't want to live in my apartment, and I don't want to be with you. She's taken everything._' He knew it wasn't doing anyone any good to wallow in guilt, but some small part of his thought that maybe if he could make himself hurt as much as he had hurt her, it would be justified. Which was bullshit, but he did it anyway.

Just a few weeks ago, he might have looked forward to spending time with Olivia, without Walter or Astrid, just the two of them (and fifty other FBI agents). But a few weeks ago, he'd had no idea that the Olivia he was with wasn't _his_ Olivia. He should have known … all those things she did, particularly in the first week, it so _wasn't her_. And even when he'd confronted her about the differences, he still hadn't seen the truth.

He wasn't sure what to expect from the week ahead.

She was sitting in her office, reading something on her computer screen, the intent and focused look on her face coupled with her glasses making her look downright adorable. She didn't appear to have noticed him standing in her doorway, or she was pretending not to. She was very good at pretending he didn't exist recently.

"Olivia."

She didn't look up. "Just a minute."

"Olivia, Broyles wants us there at midday. We need to get moving."

"I said, _in a minute_," she snapped at him, still not looking up. He fell silent, deciding that he probably shouldn't give her anymore reason to be angry at him. They had to spend a week together, after all. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and finally looked up at him. He could see the pale tone to her face, how dark her eyes looked, and she looked thinner. His heart panged for her, cliché but true. He hated seeing her hurting - he always had, ever since the very beginning, when she had blackmailed him out of a physical war zone and right into a right into an emotional one. It was worse now though, knowing that he was the cause of her pain, and that he couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've been doing some research on quantum chromodynamics, trying to wrap my head around it, Walter mentioned it on the last case we worked. It's a difficult concept to understand."

Peter tilted his head. "But quantum chromodynamics didn't have anything to do with the case, did it?" he asked, wondering if he'd missed something.

"No, he just mentioned it in the passing."

_And you've run out of paperwork to distract you_, Peter's brain supplied the end of the explanation. "Okay." She looked grateful that he didn't pursue the topic. "But we really do have to get going."

"Yeah." She stood up, shutting off her computer and picking up a large backpack similar to the one he was carrying, slinging it over her shoulder. She took off her glasses, putting them in her pocket. "Alright. I've got everything I need for a week away in the wilderness," she said with distaste in her voice. Peter laughed.

"Not a fan of the great outdoors?" he asked as they headed to the FBI parking lot.

"I grew up on military bases, cities and boarding schools," she said. "The closest I ever got to wildlife was the park."

"Well, we're staying at a camp, some sort of a building," Peter said.

"I suppose," she said, as they got into the car.

Peter smiled to himself. Maybe if they could just slip back into their old pattern, they could avoid at least _some_ of the awkwardness. Maybe something good could come of this week.

… … …

"Okay, everyone listen up!" Broyles yelled at the top of his lungs, rubbing his hands together. They were all standing at the edge of an absolutely _huge_ expanse of forest, nestled in and around the small mountain range they were at. They had driven for hours to get here. "Your first challenge is navigation. In your pairs, you will be given a compass and a set of coordinates that you will need follow. The route each of you will take is unique to everyone else's, and you will all leave at different times. Each route is approximately eight miles long, and will finish at the camp. Any questions?"

"What about our backpacks?" one agent yelled.

"You will carry them with you," he said. They all groaned, wishing they'd packed lighter. "All right, one of each pair come get a compass, and one get the coordinates."

Ten minutes later, Peter and Olivia were standing at the edge of the trees, waiting for Broyles' OK. Peter had the compass, and Olivia was carrying the sheet of coordinates.

"Alright, Bishop, Dunham, you can get started," Broyles said. "Good luck."

As they headed off, Peter didn't miss the glare that Olivia sent in Broyles' direction, or the smug look on the older man's face. _He set this up, didn't he?_ Peter thought. Well, nothing he could do about it now.

"What's the first coordinate?" he asked her. She gave him the answer, and they began trekking off through the thick scrub in the direction the compass pointed them. It wasn't long before all Peter could see around him was trees, dirt, and scrub.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Peter asked.

"According to this, there should be a red scarf tied around the tree," Olivia replied. "I wish I knew where the hell I was. That's why I like the city - I know all of the streets. They're easy, they don't change. Consistent."

"Yeah, but you have a photographic memory," Peter replied. "All you have to do it look at a street map, and you know where you're going for the rest or your life." Olivia smiled.

"Exactly."

They trudged along for a while in silence, both of them getting pretty hot. It was a warm day, and Olivia had taken off her sweater - she was wearing jeans and a white tank top, her hair swept up in a messy ponytail. Her fringe had grown, and was long enough that she could either pin it back or sweep it across her face in a side fringe - she never wore it the way _she_ had. Peter supposed it was her way of differentiating herself. He hadn't commented on it. Whatever helped her heal.

"Peter?" Olivia said, coming to a stop.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think we should have found the marker by now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said cautiously, looking at his watch. "Yeah. We've been walking for over an hour now. Maybe we missed it?"

"I don't see how," she replied. "I mean, the forest is pretty dense, but we've been going in a straight path, and there's another seven coordinates. We should have reached the first by now." Peter could hear the worry in her voice.

"Let's check the compass," he suggested, pulling it out of his pocket. The two of them crouched down on the ground and looked at it. "Okay, so north is that-" he broke off as the needle swung around, then back.

"What's happening to it?" Olivia asked concernedly. The needle kept waving back and forth.

"Shit," Peter muttered, and started emptying out his pockets. "Damn it, damn it."

"Peter!" Olivia said. "What's happening?"

"I think the compass has been magnetised," Peter explained, a grim look on his face. Olivia's eyes got wider.

"How?" she demanded. He shrugged hopelessly.

"There wasn't anything in my pockets that could have affected it, it must have happened before we left.""So … we've been going in the wrong direction this whole time?" Olivia asked. Peter could see the panic rising in her eyes. "Oh my god, Peter, we're _stuck_ out here?" she asked, the pitch of her voice getting higher. She ran her hands over her hair worriedly. He hadn't known she'd disliked the forest this much, though he could understand her panic - the sun was getting lower. Peter put both hands on her arms, forcing her to look at him.

"Olivia. Let's think about this rationally," he said. "You got the compass from Broyles, and it was in the bag with the others, which means somehow they all must have been magnetised at the same time, so everyone else must be stuck too. They'll be sending out search party's in no time." Olivia shook her head frantically.

"No, no, the compass wasn't with the others," she said. "Broyles gave me this one from his pocket, because there weren't enough to go around. It must have been magnetised then, why didn't we notice before, oh my god Peter," she was panicking now, her breathing becoming quicker, her eyes frantic. "Oh my god, we could be anywhere, we could be out here for _weeks_," she almost yelled.

"Olivia!" he shouted, and she looked back at him. "Calm down!"

"NO!" she yelled back. "We are stuck out god knows where in a huge forest, the sun will be setting in a few hours, and we have no idea where the camp is! Tell me what is good about this situation, Peter!"

Peter took a step away, deciding it might be best to just let her get everything out. "Olivia …"

"Shut up," she snapped, and stormed off into the trees, dropping her backpack on the ground beside him. Peter sighed, sitting down on the ground. She would be back soon enough. He looked around him, surveying their surroundings. They were on the side of a steep mountain, and though the trees and scrub was still thick, they weren't as dense as some of the areas they had fought their way through.

He wondered when Olivia would come back. She would, eventually. The only thing worse than being stuck out here, would be being stuck here alone. Besides, he had he backpack.

Suddenly, a shrill scream rang out to his left. Peter jumped up, racing down the hill to where the scream had come, dropping his backpack to allow him to run faster. "Olivia!" he yelled, his heart pounding, his feet racing to find her. "OLIVIA!" He ran through a thick overhang of trees, and almost ran right off the edge of a tall, steep hill. He stood at the edge, his eyes scanning the bottom frantically. At the very bottom, their was a small, unmoving shape lying in the shadows of a tree.

Olivia mustn't have stopped in time.

… … …

**A/N: **I'm not happy with this chapter at all, but the next one is already almost complete, so it should be up soon.

Maybe reviews would make it arrive faster?

*Evil laugh*


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Oh god, thankyou so much for your reviews! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story.

This chapter is for MissEsme, who suggested the whole 'bee drama', and because her reviews always make me grin like an idiot.

… … …

_Olivia!" he yelled, his heart pounding, his feet racing to find her. "OLIVIA!" He ran through a thick overhang of trees, and almost ran right off the edge of a tall, steep hill. He stood at the edge, his eyes scanning the bottom frantically. At the very bottom, their was a small, unmoving shape lying in the shadows of a tree._

_Olivia mustn't have stopped in time._

She was aching. Everything was painful, and dark. Was it night? What was happening? She wasn't in her bed, that was for sure, she was leaning against something hard.

Suddenly, she was very aware that another person was there with her. They were close, right in front of her. She could hear their breathing, and they were saying something. Her name …

"Olivia, Olivia, please wake up sweetheart, please Olivia," it was begging. _Peter_. She half-opened her eyes. He was crouched in front of her … and he was topless. Olivia took a moment to appreciate the view.

"Don't call me sweetheart," she murmured. He grinned.

"Olivia, how are you feeling?"

"What happened?" she asked. God, her head was throbbing. And there was a sharper, stabbing pain in her arm.

"You fell off the edge of the mountain," Peter said. "After you stormed off. I almost did too, when I followed your scream. You must have fallen thirty feet, it's pretty steep at the top, and then I think you must have rolled down the slope."

"My head hurts," she muttered. Everything was a bit clearer in her memory now. She had been looking over her shoulder, when the ground had fallen out from underneath her. She had screamed, and then a lot of pain to her head, and she must have been knocked out and rolled down the slope, like Peter had said.

"I think you knocked it, but it doesn't look too bad," Peter said. "Just hard enough to black out; there's a bit of bruising, but you'll recover. I was more worried about your arm."

"My arm?" she asked, looking down. Halfway between her elbow and her wrist on her left arm there was a deep gash, which would account for the stabbing pain she could feel. Now she knew why Peter wasn't wearing a shirt; He had ripped it, making a rough bandage, trying to stop the blood. "Shit," she said.

"Yeah, I think you've lost quite a bit of blood," he said. No kidding. There was blood all over the side of her white shirt, and staining his torn top pretty badly. Mind you, the sight of him standing there topless was almost worth the pain. She moved slightly, and her arm throbbed. Almost. He stood up, wiping the blood from the his hands on his jeans. "We left the packs up there," he said. "I'm going to have to go get them - I don't think there's much chance of us returning to the camp tonight," he said. Olivia winced. "Where does it hurt?" Peter asked her concernedly.

"I'm fine, but that wasn't why I was wincing," she told him. "I just remembered our current situation. Of being lost."

"Oh," was all Peter had to say in response. "I'll go get our backpacks now, stay here."

"Don't be stupid, I'm fine," she said, using the tree she was resting against to pull herself up, and promptly stumbling into Peter's arms. He held her perhaps for a moment too long, steadying her.

"Sure you are," he said. "But I don't want to have to carry you up that slope; it was bad enough carrying you this far. You're heavy." Olivia punched him with her good arm.

He grinned, setting off up the hill. "Stay there," he said, and began the steep climb up the rocky slope she had just rolled down. Olivia leant on the tree, taking the time to appreciate his toned upper body. Something stirred deep within her stomach, and she scolded herself and her biological urges silently, and bit her lip, glad Peter had his attention focused on navigating the climb, so that he couldn't notice her slight blush.

Her alternate was one lucky woman.

_Shut up_, she thought to herself. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no means of communication, and nothing but whatever was in their backpacks to survive off of for god knows how long. This was no time to be thinking inappropriate thoughts about her partner, who she incidentally had confessed her feelings for and had then kissed, and he had then slept with an alternate version of herself thinking it was her, while she was stuck in another universe, kissing hallucinations of him.

Sometimes, she just wished she could have a easier life. Not even a _normal_ one, just an easier one, that didn't involve wars with alternate universes, complicated feelings for her partner, and clinically insane scientists who had a notorious habit for self medication and needed a 24/7 baby sitter.

She mentally shook herself. She could worry about her problems later. The matter at hand was more pressing right now. She looked around, assessing her whereabouts.

God, that slope she'd tumbled down looked dangerous. She was starting to appreciate now how lucky she had been - all she had was most likely a mild concussion and a deep gash in her arm, plus some other scrapes and bruises covering her body.

On the other side of her, opposite the slope, the trees seemed to get a little thinner. Perhaps there was a clearing somewhere close? In the distance, she could see now that they were in a sort of dip - like someone had taken an ice-cream scoop out of the earth between the mountains. Essentially, they were in a kind of small crater, which looked to be about a mile in diameter, maybe a little bigger, with steep rocks surrounding it, and trees and scrub everywhere.

She looked over to her right, and saw a pool of blood which must have been her own. God, she'd lost a lot of it. No wonder she was feeling a little dizzy - it would take a while before her blood replenished itself. Which brought her mind to the question she had been subconsciously avoiding for fear of the answer - how long _would_ they be out here? Being stuck on lower ground certainly wouldn't help them be seen by anyone looking for them, and they wouldn't start looking for hours yet. And they had no idea which way was which, so moving very far wasn't really an option - it would just make them harder to find. Moving targets.

"Hey!" Peter called, making his way carefully down the hill. "I've got both our backpacks!"

"Thanks," she replied with a smile. She noticed he still wasn't wearing a shirt. "Don't you want to put something on?" she asked a little awkwardly. "You might get cold." They both knew there wasn't really any chance of that - the one good thing about there situation was that it was warm weather, in the middle of spring (though that would change at night), but he didn't comment on it.

"We were told we'd be provided clothes at the camp, remember?" he said. "I only packed a thick jacket, and I don't want to over heat - we should ration our water supply."

With a silent curse, she realised he was right. The only other clothes she had was a warm jumper, underwear and pyjamas. She supposed she could change into her pyjama top - probably better than a bloodstained tank top.

"Do you have anything that we could use for your arm?" he asked. "I'm worried about the amount of blood you lost.

"Uh, yeah, I packed a first aid kit," she said. "It's pretty rudimentary," she warned, pulling it out of her backpack.

"Okay, let's see what we've got," Peter said, digging though the kit. "We need to get you fixed up."

"I'm fine," Olivia said automatically as she sat back down against the tree.

"I'll bet that throbbing in your arm disagrees," he said. She sighed. Her arm was indeed hurting.

"I can deal with it," she said.

"I know you can," Peter replied simply, opening the kit up. "Well, we've got plasters, painkillers, antiseptic, and an almost finished roll of bandages."

"Oh yeah, this is the one I usually keep in my car," she said. "In case of emergency. I used up the bandages a while ago, I never thought to replace them."

"Which is inconvenient, as you probably need bandages right now," he said.

"The makeshift one is fine. Actually, you did a really good job," she praised. "I'm okay."

"We're still putting antiseptic on your wounds, and you'll probably want some painkillers," he said.

"I understand I need the antiseptic so that it doesn't get infected, but I don't need painkillers," she said stubbornly. "I'm fine." Peter sighed.

"Please Olivia? It can't hurt." He held out the painkillers and a half-empty water bottle to her. "It's a full packet, there's plenty more if we need them later."

She took them reluctantly, silently slightly glad. Her head and her arm hurt. She placed a pill on her tongue and took a large gulp of water, swallowing it with difficulty. Peter noticed her grimace.

"You okay?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I hate swallowing tablets. I used to refuse to as a child, even when I got the _worst_ headaches."

Peter pulled a scrap of material from his pocket - part of his t-shirt he'd ripped to use as her bandage. The sleaves obviously hadn't been of much use, so he'd stuffed them in his pocket. He opened the bottle and poured some water on the cloth, and Olivia carefully unravelled her bandage, getting a proper look at the wound. Peter was right - it was more worrisome than the knock to her head. It was pretty deep, a lot deeper than she'd thought.

"We'll clean it out first," he said.

"No, don't," Olivia protested. "We'll need the water more later." Peter shook his head stubbornly.

"Too bad," he said, and began cleaning it out the best he could with the water bottle and the cloth. Once he was satisfied, he doused the cloth with the antiseptic. "Sorry," he apologised as he pressed it to her wound, and she winced. It felt like it was on fire. She distracted herself from the pain by observing his bare chest again. It was a very nice distraction.

"Checking me out, Dunham?" he asked with a smug grin. She felt her cheeks heat up a little.

"There's not much else to look at," she muttered. "And anyway, who knows what you could've done when I was out of it." Peter looked at her incredulously.

"You think I'd do something like that while you were unconscious?" he asked, sounding slightly hurt.

"No," she murmured. In the past few weeks, Peter had been nothing but gentlemanly and apologetic. "I don't."

They were silent for a few minutes as he crouched over her, cleaning out her wound. Once he had finished with her arm he bandaged it up again and moved on to the various other cuts and scrapes on her body. She had a few shallow ones on her face, stomach and back, and one that had ripped through the knee on her jeans. The one on her knee was bad enough for a plaster, and she felt slightly nostalgic for her childhood when he carefully placed one over the scrape.

It was slightly awkward as he cleaned the ones on her face, so she tried to joke to ease the tension. "Damn it, just as all the cuts on my face were healing, I get more." She didn't quite know where to look now that he had caught her out about looking at his bare chest, so she stared at sky. The sun was slowly creeping lower.

"Occupational hazard," Peter said with a smile. He was quiet for a moment. "You still look beautiful."

Olivia wasn't sure what to say to that. "Thankyou?" she murmured uncertainly. He chuckled.

"You need to start learning to accept compliments, Liv," he said as he finished with her face, and stood up. She got up as soon as she could, packing up the first aid kit and slinging the backpack on.

"I think we should head that direction," Olivia said, gesturing. "It's obvious that we wont be found tonight, and it looks like the forest gets thinner over there. We need to work out what to do about a place to spend the night."

"Okay," Peter agreed.

For several minutes they walked in silence. Olivia could see Peter giving her worried looks each time she stumbled or tripped, but he knew better than to say anything.

After about ten minutes of walking, they were close to the other side of the dip, when Peter abruptly stopped in front of her, and she almost walked into him. "What?" she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, her eyes looking around wildly. Peter didn't say anything. "Peter, what is it?" she asked urgently. "Peter?" he was really starting to freak her out.

She looked at his face, his eyes focused on something … she followed his line of view, to where he was looking at something a few feet ahead of them, on a tree. Slowly, she grinned. "Peter. It's just a bee. It's fine, they aren't going to hurt you." Peter looked at her incredulously.

"Not going to hurt me?" he said, and she noted with amusement the panic in his voice. "Olivia, those things sting you!"

"I know," she said, now trying not to laugh. "They've stung me before. It's no big deal."

"I … don't like bees," he said. He hadn't moved his eyes from the black and yellow creature sitting on the tree trunk. Olivia did laugh then.

"Peter. You've faced Observers with ray-guns, men trying to feed you bugs that rip their way out of you, Shapeshifters, deadly viruses that tried to make you shoot me, serial killers with a taste for spinal fluid, more monsters than I can count, _alternate universes_, and you're scared stiff by a little bee. Really?"

"I'm not scared stiff!" Peter protested, finally moving slightly, trying to pretend his whole body wasn't tensed. "I'm just - SHIT!" he yelled as the bee began flying towards them. "Olivia, Olivia, get rid of it!" he yelled, running around in a most un-Peter-ish way, his eyes wide, flapping his arms around his face. It was all Olivia could do not to burst out laughing. She bent over and picked up a branch. "Olivia, Ol-oh my god, it's on me, it's on me!" he screamed like a little girl.

"Stay still!" Olivia yelled, holding up the stick. The bee was resting on Peter's back. He froze like he was made of ice, besides the fact that he was trembling. Olivia couldn't help giggling as she whacked his back with the stick, trying to squish the bee.

"OW!" Peter yelled.

"Wait, it's flying again!" she yelled, and began to beat at it with the branch.

"GOD DAMN IT BLOODY HELL!" Peter yelled as she hit him over and over with the stick. Olivia gave it one last whack, the dropped the stick, panting. "Is it gone?" Peter asked nervously.

"It's dead," she told him, breathless. She bent over, trying to regain her breath, and looked up at him, then began to giggle. Before long, she was in hysterics, tears pouring down her face. Peter was not amused. "It was just a bee," she laughed hysterically, not able to stop. "It was just a little bee!" God, how long had it been since she'd laughed like this? It felt so good.

So laughed until her stomach ached, then picked herself up off of the ground, trying to calm down. "Well, if no one heard you yelling I suppose we can be sure that we aren't going to be found anytime soon, she said. Peter glared at her. "I'm sorry," she said, not really meaning it. It felt great to laugh again, to pretend for a moment that she was a normal person with an ordinary life.

Peter sighed. "Sorry," he muttered. She bit her lip to stop from smiling.

"It's okay," she replied. "We've all got a stupid, irrational fears. And I haven't laughed in a while." She looked down, and so did he; he always used to be the one who made her laugh. "We should keep looking for somewhere to spend the night," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, and they trekked forward again, sweat running down their faces. She was thirsty, but both of them had been avoiding drinking water; they needed to ration it, as they could be out here for another day at least.

They kept walking forward, until they abruptly walked out into something that resembled a clearing. It reached right up to the rocks, which were much steeper here, and had trees dotted through it. The grass was fairly thick, and there were only a few bushes, mostly gathered around the trees.

It wasn't a five-star hotel, but it looked as good a place as any to spend the night

… … …

**Authors Note:** That was probably pretty out of character, but it was fun, and Olivia needs to laugh more often, don't you agree?

Hey, just realised (about two days after writing this), that the whole part where Peter catches Olivia checking him out, and she says there's not much else to look at - that happened to me! Obviously not with Peter (huh, I wish!), but I said the exact same thing Olivia said … strange how your real life manages to work its way into fanfics without you noticing, hey?

Oh, and in case you didn't notice, I just made Peter topless, basically for the rest of the fic. I think that alone is worth a review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Fist of all - who saw Firefly? If you didn't, go watch it. Right now. Even I've seen it, and I'm in Australia. It was so damn awesome, but heart-wrenchingly sad. The Peter/Olivia parts were just … sad. I don't know idf there's any other way to put it. Just, sad. There were also lots of little things, clues and such, hidden in there. Does anyone else notice those? I did! I wont tell you, but if you want to know what I'm talking about, PM me :)

Thankyou all for your wonderful reviews, they make me smile like crazy! You are all too nice, really.

Oh, and now that Firefly's aired, that makes this AU. Well, sort of. Depending on which way you squint at it. Oh, and you may notice I've sort of manipulated the seasons to suit my needs. In my head, this is set around early autumn, when it's still warm. Which I'm fairly sure doesn't correspond with the show. Oh well, I'm the author, I can do things like that :}

… … …

_They kept walking forward, until they abruptly walked out into something that resembled a clearing. It reached right up to the rocks, which were much steeper here, and had trees dotted through it. The grass was fairly thick, and there were only a few bushes, mostly gathered around the trees. _

_It wasn't a five-star hotel, but it looked as good a place as any to spend the night._

… … …

"Is that a cave?" Peter asked, pointing over to a crevice in the rocks Olivia hadn't noticed.

"I sure as hell hope not," she said with a shudder. He looked at her with a confused frown.

"Why?" he asked. "It would protect us much better from animals during the night, and if we can get a fire started, it might keep us a little warmer." God, she hadn't even thought about wild animals.

"Of course, you're right," she said with a nod. "Sorry. I just … don't really like caves. Or the forest much, for that matter. But never mind, it's not important."

"If you say so," Peter said doubtfully, but let the matter rest. She was sure he'd ask about it later though. In the meantime, they headed across the small clearing to check out the cave.

It wasn't really a cave, in Olivia's opinion. It was a fault point in the rock, that had eroded and fallen away over thousands of years to create a hollow in the rock, about 7 feet deep and five feet across, sloping ever so slightly away from them. It wasn't more than five feet high, so they had to duck to get inside. The inside was not too bad - not deep enough to be hiding anything in the shadows somewhere, and fairly smooth from erosion. Perhaps this crater they were in was once a small lake that had long ago dried up.

"It looks pretty good," Olivia said. "I suppose this is where we'll be spending the night.

"Oh no, I thought we'd take the five star motel with the buffet meal and free drinks just up the hill there," Peter joked. She smiled.

"We should take everything out of our packs and our pockets, see what we have to work with," she said. Peter nodded in agreement.

Five minutes later, they were both sitting cross legged at the mouth of the cave (or 'The Scoop' as Olivia had already nicknamed it in her mind), with a number of objects on the ground between them.

"Okay," a still shirtless (which was annoyingly distracting) Peter began. "We've got a few bottles of water, one torch, three books, a Swiss army knife, a compass that doesn't work, an analogue watch, a hair brush, basic bathroom stuff like toothbrushes and shampoo, the clothes we packed which is basically just underwear and pyjamas, plus some warmer jumpers and slippers, one basic first aid kit, bug repellent - good thinking Olivia - a cigarette lighter, a pen, a length of rope, duct tape, a paperclip, and both our secret candy stashes," he said with a grin, gesturing to the small pile of their favourite biscuits and chocolates they had obviously intended to sneak at the camp. "Oh and children's sandbox toys?" he said in confusion, holding up a small tin bucket and a red plastic spade.

"From last time I went to the beach with Ella," she explained, smiling at the memory. "Why do we have rope and duct tape?" she asked. "I mean, they could come in handy, but why were they in your backpack?"

"From last time I held someone hostage and duct taped their mouths," Peter said. Olivia blinked once. "It's been a while since I've used this backpack, okay?" he said. "Years before I knew you. Anyway, the guy was a bad guy, he and his mates kidnapped a teenage girl, the daughter of a friend of mine, I … managed to persuade him to tell me where they were keeping the girl. Alisha, I think her name was." Peter shook his head. "I shouldn't have told you that, you'll arrest me now."

"Don't be stupid," Olivia said. "Of course I'm not going to arrest you, I don't have my badge or my handcuffs for a start, and you probably saved her life. Besides, if I arrest you now, I'm screwed. I really have no idea what to do in a situation like this. I suppose Broyles was right to send us all out on this survival training course."

"Well, first things first, we need to light a fire," Peter said. "Otherwise we'll freeze out here tonight. Do you know how cold it gets in these parts after the sun sets?"

"No," Olivia said.

"Cold," Peter replied. "Really, really cold."

"Great," Olivia said sarcastically. "I've survived falling off a cliff just to freeze to death. This is not how I pictured my demise." Her arm was still aching, her headache clearing up.

"You've pictured your demise?" Peter asked, surprised.

"Well, always figured it would be one of the monsters we hunt, or a deadly virus, but more recently I'm pretty sure Walternate has it in for me, so I'm finished as soon as he figures out how I cross over. I'm too much of a liability. Plus, I think he just likes killing people," Olivia said ruefully. "Haven't you ever thought about it? I mean, with our line of work …"

"I prefer not to," Peter said. "But if I do, it'll probably be The Machine. So, death by Walternate. Just like you, I suppose; kept alive long enough to fill his needs," he said bitterly. "Or maybe I'll end up killing myself, so that I can't complete the machine. With me gone the machine could never work, and the imbalance would be fixed, wouldn't it?"

Olivia looked at him, shocked that he would even suggest that. Then, her anger kicked in, and she punched him with her good arm, hard, anger coursing through her body. He blinked, shocked, as a little trickle of blood ran from his nose.

"Don't you _ever_ say that again," she hissed fiercely. "Don't even _think_ that. That is _not_ the answer to all this. Don't you _dare_ think that would end this. Walternate would just find another way, another means, to destroy our world." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "We need you, Peter. I … I need you," she confessed.

Peter looked into her eyes, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to make him believe this wasn't the way, to show him. Instead she bit her lip and looked down at her interlocked hands, willing the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

"Sorry," he whispered, and touched her hands for a moment. When the warm pressure left skin, she looked up to see that he was standing just outside The Scoop.

"I'm going to go take a look around outside for some firewood," he said, wiping the blood on the back of his hand.

"Okay," she replied, knowing he was leaving to give her some space. She appreciated it. Peter had been so good through everything lately, doing nothing to push her, giving her room to figure herself out.

She decided to organise their junk. (Or one could say she was being evasive with her own emotions as usual). She began trying to organise the few items they had with them, which occupied her for the time being as she sorted all their supplies out.

Thank god Broyles had made them carry their packs with them. There was no way they would be able to survive without some of these items. Though, a long time ago she'd read a book about a boy who survived in the wilderness for months, and he had nothing but a hatchet. She had a feeling that she and Peter probably weren't going to be as lucky as he was, however. They needed all the help they could get.

Once she was finished her organising, she left The Scoop and went outside, sitting against a nearby tree. The sun was setting, and she watched the sky turn from a pretty blue dotted with fluffy clouds to a mixture of pink and orange with dashes of purple.

She sighed silently, knowing she had spent her time and energy on organising everything to distract herself from confronting her feelings, her problems. She'd spent the past few weeks drowning herself in paperwork and coffee, because she hadn't wanted to think, let alone figure things out with herself. She wasn't going to have that option now.

"Olivia!" a voice she would know anywhere rang out through the crisp, cooling air. "Look what I've found!" He sounded excited.

"It's not another bee, is it?" she called back. She could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"No, just come here!"

She followed the sound of his voice to the other edge of the rocks, and through the trees a way. Before long, she opened into another clearing, smaller than the one with the cave. In the middle, Peter stood at the edge of a wide pool of water, a small waterfall trickling from the edge of the cliff into it.

"It's great, isn't it?" he said with a grin. She had to admit, it was very pretty; the setting sun was casting bright pink and orange reflections into the water, the rocks surrounding it turning a warm peach colour. The area around was mainly grassy and nice; n any other circumstance Olivia would have though it's make a nice picnic spot to bring Ella.

"It's nice," she said with a smile, sitting on one of the rocks by the water and sticking her finger in. "Freezing though!"

"There must be a stream leading from one of the mountains, probably a large river. I'd say the creek that runs into this is probably just a small one leading off of it," Peter said. "This means we wont have to ration our water supply!"

"Peter, we can't _drink_ this water," Olivia contradicted. "Unless you want some sort of strange river-water disease from the bugs in it."

"We'll boil it," Peter said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"How?"

"Over the campfire I'm going to start."

"In what?" she asked doubtfully. He looked stumped for a moment.

"Um … Oh, Ella's tin sandcastle bucket, of course. That's perfectly safe."

"Are you _sure_ it's a good idea?" Olivia said.

"Well, unless you feel like dying of lack of water, do you have a better one?" he asked. "Because I know I'm thirsty already, and there's not much water in the bottles left.

Olivia nodded, seeing it was the only solution. "Okay," she agreed. "Well, let's get this fire going before it gets dark. I don't want visits from mountain lions or something."

"I don't think they have mountain lions in these parts," he said.

"Well 'don't think' doesn't sound a hundred percent sure to me, and I'm not taking my chances," she said. She really was not a fan of any monsters, even if they weren't genetically modified or mutated.

"Good point. Let's find some firewood."

… … …

Half an hour later, they were gathered out the front of The Scoop again, each setting a reasonable amount of large and small pieces of wood onto the ground. Peter had also gathered a few smaller rocks, which he positioned in a circle just outside the entrance, while Olivia used the plastic spade to dig a small depression in the middle. Thank god it hadn't rained in a while. Everything was fairly dry.

"Okay, have you made fires often before?" Peter asked.

"Um, not really," Olivia admitted. "I know the basic principles though, and those sticks aren't going to just catch alight if you hold a cigarette lighter to them."

"You're right," Peter admitted. "I'd say we could use clothing, but considering I've already sacrificed my own shirt …"

"Oh, you can have this one," Olivia said, tugging on her tank top. "It's covered in blood anyway. I've got my pyjama t-shirt, I can wear that. Just give me a moment."

Peter turned away respectfully as she tugged the tank top off, not that he hadn't seen it all before when she was in the tank (and, you know, sleeping with an alternate version of herself). She quickly replaced it with her grey Northwestern t-shirt, handing him the tank top. She also quickly changed into her black, thick track pants, figuring she may as well be warm and comfortable.

Within the next five minutes, they had a pretty good fire built up. Peter took the cigarette lighter out of his pocket, and held it to Olivia's bloodstained shirt poking out from underneath the wood. The shirt caught alight, flickered, and died.

"Shit," Peter muttered, and tried another part, with the same result. "It's not catching, it's too much cotton and not enough nylon. Not flammable enough."

"Okay …" Olivia said, thinking, refusing to give up. "Oh! Why didn't I think of it before?"

"Wha-" Peter started to ask, but she disappeared into the cave. She emerged a few minutes later carrying the three books that had been packed. "Of course," he said, taking the books. "Okay, what are we ripping up? 'Notable Scientific Developments of the 21st Century', 'Animal Farm', or the compilation of Jane Austen novels?" they looked at each other for a moment.

"The science one," they both said in unison, grinning. Peter took it, tearing out a dozen pages from the back of the book and scrunching them up, placing them over the shirt. He took the cigarette lighter out again, lighting the edge of the paper. It caught a lot better than the cotton shirt, the bright flames eating the paper hungrily, and with a little encouragement from Peter, started the fire. Olivia smiled, glad she could be of some use during this whole affair. She was beginning to feel like she'd done nothing but manage to waste their precious resources while Peter did all the useful stuff.

"Yes!" Olivia said. She felt like dancing - finally! Of course she didn't dance, but grinned at Peter, who grinned back.

"I'm going to go collect some water now," he said. "Can you hand me the torch and the bucket?"

"Sure," she replied, retrieving them from inside. It was pretty dark now - eighty percent of their light was coming from the fire. Olivia leaned back against the rock, resigned to the fact that they would definitely be spending the night here. Would anyone have noticed their disappearance yet? Would Broyles send out a search team straight away? She couldn't imagine he would, not with so little (if any) daylight left. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Well, if she was here, she might as well do something. The watch, which she had duct-taped to the cave wall so that they didn't lose it, read 8:00; no where near enough time to be attempting sleep, particularly with her erratic sleeping patterns. She picked up the two books from where Peter had left them next to the fire. She had already read 'Animal Farm', and in any case she wasn't in the mood for politics. Besides, it was Peter's book, not hers. Instead, she picked up the volume of Jane Austen novels, and opened it up to 'Sense and Sensibility', beginning to read. She was only a page in when Peter returned with a bucket full of water.

"Jane Austen, huh?" he said. "I never figured you for a romance fan."

"I'm not," she said. "Rachel gave them to me, for my birthday this year." she paused. "Actually, Rachel gave them to _her_ for my birthday, but as they were intended for me, I don't feel bad."

"Of course," Peter murmured. "You were Over There for your birthday."

"Yeah, I spent it strapped to a table being pumped full of drugs," she said bitterly. "Painful ones, too."

Peter looked at her for a moment. "You never did tell me what happened to you when you were Over There," he said. She was quiet for a moment.

"I will," she replied. "But not tonight."

"Okay," he agreed. "If it makes you feel any better, I think Rachel sent them to her - to you - in the mail. She never met Rachel here."

"That's because her sister's dead in her universe," Olivia explained. "I suppose she didn't want to have to lose her all over again." She paused. "But in any case, that does make me feel a little better. At least I know that's one part of my life she didn't touch."

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered.

"Yeah," Olivia replied. "Look, I don't want to talk about that tonight."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry for punching you."

He smiled. "I wont pretend that didn't hurt a bit. But I promise not to say anything like that again."

"Or think it?"

"Or think it," he agreed.

"Good."

She returned to her book for a while, and he returned to the water, trying to position it so no ash got in the bucket. Then, she looked back up.

"Thankyou," she whispered. _For giving me space, for not pushing anything, for letting me look after myself,_ she thought, but she didn't need to say anything. He knew what she meant.

"You're welcome," he replied with a nod and the slightest hint of a small smile, and returned to the water bucket, as she returned to her book.

A few chapters in, Olivia looked up to put on the hoodie she'd packed (it was getting pretty cold), to see Peter was duct-taping some sticks approximately the thickness of her wrist together. She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what on earth he was doing. After a few minutes, she realised he was making a frame for the water bucket. He'd created a large triangular base that framed the fire, large enough not to catch alight, with three long sticks beginning at each corner of the triangle and meeting at the top to form a triangular-based pyramid. Each corner was heavily duct-taped, and the whole thing was large enough that it wasn't getting burnt by the flames. As she watched, he picked up the rope, tied one end firmly around the handle of the bucket, and the other to the top of the pyramid, which he duct-taped over as well to assure it wouldn't fall into the flames. The end result had the bucket hanging just so the flames were licking around it's edges, but the wood frame and the rope were safely out of the way.

Olivia had to admire it's design: it was extremely well-constructed, strong and stable. She also had to admire the way the flames cast warm flickers of light onto Peter's still bare chest. He had a very, very nice upper half …

"Like it?" Peter asked, seeing her observation.

"Very much," she replied, meaning both the thing he'd built and his body (not that she was about to admit to the latter).

"I figured using a triangle base would work best, as a triangle is the strongest shape," he explained. "And I knew the duct tape and rope would come in handy. Aren't you glad of my former shady past?" he grinned.

"Right now, very," she replied with a smile. "I'd have probably already died out here by now if it wasn't for you Peter."

"Hey, that's was friends are for," he joked. "Saving your life in potentially fatal situations. When we get out of here, you might even owe me one, Dunham."

"Nah, I'll just kill all the bees for you and we'll be even," she joked. He glared at her playfully.

"Not if you whack me with a stick again, I'm covered in scratches. You hit _hard_."

"Hey, you asked me to kill it," she said with a shrug. He smiled guiltily, and changed the subject before she could tease him too much.

"I think we should probably not let the fire go out, even during the day," he said. "I mean, we've still got plenty of that science book left, but it would be best not to waste our resources."

"Does that mean we'll have to take turns watching it during the night?" she asked. He thought for a moment.

"I don't think so. It's stocked well enough at the moment to last the night, if we refuel it pretty early tomorrow morning. And, well, I don't see any danger in leaving it unattended … it's not close enough to any dry grass or trees to start a bushfire. We'll just have to be very careful."

"Careful. Got it. Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Actually, yes," he admitted, and pulled his own jacket out of his bag, zipping it up. "I'm going to go safety-proof the fire the best I can."

"Are you ever going to just relax?" she asked. "There's a book there you could read, you know."

"I'll relax once I'm sure we're not going to wake up with the forest burning down around us," he said, and left The Scoop again. Olivia returned to reading, as Peter built a steady stone wall around the fire, about a half a foot high (she figure it was to stop the burning wood falling far), and cleared away everything within a three-foot radius of the fire. By the time he was finished, it was nearing eleven o'clock.

"Um … how are we going to sleep?" Olivia asked when he came to sit down across from her, looking worn-out. She was feeling pretty tired herself - it had been one _really_ long, tough day. And her arm was aching again.

"We should put our heads near the fire, as you lose most of your body heat our of your head," he said. "And, I don't know, just lie down and try to get comfortable and warm."

"Comfortable, ha, as if that's going to happen," she mumbled, grabbing her backpack and using it as a pillow. He did the same.

"Sorry," he apologised.

"It's not _your_ fault we're out here," she mumbled. She was tireder than she'd realised. "Without you and your genius skills and usefully strong body, I'd be screwed. Maybe even dead, with that wound in my arm." By the end of her sentence her voice was getting garbled by exhaustion.

"Shh," he whispered as her eyes slid shut, laying a hand on her cheek. "Go to sleep now Livvy."

And she did exactly that.

… … …

**A/N: **Well, to me that seemed like a long and unexciting, but necessary chapter. I know it seems like they've got _heaps_ of things, but I figured if that since Broyles made them carry their backpacks with them, they'd have a decent amount of supplies. And really, they've only got the basics. I know shampoo and soap seems kind of unnecessary, but I'd pack my own toiletries if I was going away, wouldn't you?

By the way, I've been using entirely American measurements (feet, miles, etc.), which have been kind of confusing for me, because we use metric in Australia (meters, kilometres, etc.), which are a hell of a lot easier to understand, because everything works in groups of ten, so sorry if some of the measurements seem a bit off or something.

Anyway, what did you think of that chapter? I promise a little more Polivia next chapter, if you review …

Hehe, I really am evil, aren't I?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey look, a chapter from Peter's POV! I struggled with this for a while - it's easier for me to get into Liv's frame of mind. This chapter has less humour and more angst, but appropriate amounts of fluff to balance everything out.

Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter - there weren't as many of you, but I don't mind much, because in my opinion it wasn't a very good chapter. Those of you who did, however, I appreciate it :)

I don't own Fringe. And I'm from Australia, so … well, you know the drill.

Oh, and I should warn you, a lot more language in this chapter. I can't write a yelling-match without some swearing. Sorry.

… … …

"_Shh," he whispered as her eyes slid shut, laying a hand on her cheek. "Go to sleep now Livvy."_

_And she did exactly that._

… … …

Oh god his back hurt like a bitch …

Peter groaned slightly, wondering why he wasn't in his comfortable bed. Whatever he was laying on was _far_ too solid. A movement close to him made him realise that half of his body was weighed down by something soft but heavy.

_Olivia_, he thought automatically, then mentally kicked himself. The Olivia he'd woken up next to was in another universe, and _his_ Olivia definitely wouldn't be sleeping with him. Not that he blamed her. He still couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. In retrospect, it seemed screamingly obvious. When she'd admitted to being scared, how she couldn't recite numbers without thinking, how she'd ran to him after shooting someone. These were not things _his_ Olivia did. And he'd missed it, because he was too blinded by his own contentment, and now he'd hurt her to the point she barely looked at him when they were in the lab together. So who was lying on him? If Walter had fallen asleep in his bed again, he was going to kill him.

Waking up a little more, he remembered where he was. In a cave in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and steep rocky walls. And the only other person nearby was Olivia. Which meant …

He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at her. She was using his shoulder as a pillow, and was lying clutching his side, his arm underneath her. Well, wasn't this going to be awkward when she woke.

For a moment he just lay there, thinking about what to do. He could move, which would wake her up. He could stay, and she'd wake up and probably be angry at him. He could try and slowly edge away, trying to leave her asleep. Yes, that was the best idea.

But he didn't move an inch. He lay, looking down at her face. Her blonde hair was hanging over her back, her fringe brushing into her eyes. She was definitely thinner than he remembered her being. Had that happened while she was Over There, or since she got back? Her features looked tired, even in sleep, and her hair and skin had lost some of the shine it used to have. Everything about her screamed 'exhausted'. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been eating, hadn't been laughing. (He'd gotten the feeling when she'd burst into hysterical laughter at his expense with the bee that it had been a long time since she'd done that).

A huge wave of guilt washed over him. _I spent it strapped to a table being pumped full of drugs. Painful one's too._ She'd been tortured. By his own father. While he'd been lying in bed, completely oblivious, playing happy families with a woman he'd thought was her. Maybe if he'd had even the slightest suspicion, if it had crossed his mind once or twice, he wouldn't feel so bad. But the thought had never even occurred to him that it might not be _her_.

That fucking bitch. If he saw her again, he'd kill her with his own hands. Or let Olivia (his Olivia) take a swing at her. She'd earned that.

He sighed, looking down at Olivia. He decided to just let her wake up in her own time. She needed the sleep.

It wasn't long before her eyes opened, and she wriggled slightly (which put a lot of thoughts in his mind he was sure she wouldn't appreciate), awake almost instantly. Hey look, another difference - _she_ had woken up slowly, groaning and rolling over.

_Get that out of your head_, he scolded himself. If there was a way he could pour bleach between his ears and erase all memories of them being together, he would. Maybe he should ask Walter about that when he got out of this damn forest. There had to be a drug Walter could concoct.

"Hey," he said. She blinked and then blushed, realising she was latched to his side. "I didn't want to wake you. You look like you could use some sleep."

"Thanks," she murmured, quickly detangling herself from him. She did that cute little smile thing with her mouth when she was embarrassed and sat up, looking away from him. "The fire went out," she commented.

"Shit," he murmured, getting up. "Good thing I bottled that boiled water before I went to sleep. Which, by the way, I got a surprising amount of, considering our less-than-comfortable accommodations."

"Well, we were both pretty tired," she said. "It was a long, hard day. Want to go see what food we have?"

"Sounds like a great idea," he said. She got up and started rummaging around, pulling out their only food.

"It's not too healthy," she said with a wry smile, handing him a chocolate bar.

"All the better," he said. She sighed.

"I'm really craving coffee," she said, biting into her own chocolate. "They don't have coffee Over There, so ever since I got back I've been drinking even more. I'm not going to do well without it."

_Great,_ he thought. _As if we didn't have enough problems, I've got to deal with a coffee-deprived Olivia. And she's already punched me once._

Olivia walked over to the fire and began poking around in it with a stick.

"There're still some hot coals," she said. "I can't have been out of too long."

"We'll have to put more wood on it tomorrow night," Peter said.

"If we're still here," Olivia said, a little hope in her voice.

"Olivia, this forest is _huge_. I hope we're out by tonight too, but it's unlikely."

"I know," she sighed. "But I can hope." she stood up, looking around. "I think we've got enough water for today, but I'm going to go get some more, just in case." She untied the bucket from the frame he'd made.

"I'll work on getting the fire going again," he said, and she nodded and headed off towards the pool.

Ten minutes later, they were both standing, watching the water boil over the small fire. Just … standing there in silence. This was ridiculous. Before he'd ran away from them all, they would've had no trouble making conversation.

He shouldn't have ran away. Then he never would've crossed over, and she wouldn't have needed to get him back, and the two of them wouldn't have switched over, and there wouldn't have been this awkwardness between them. More than the awkwardness, the _sadness_. Of what could've, no, _would've_ been, if he had just realised that it wasn't her …

"You're beating yourself up again," Olivia said quietly. He looked over at her. She wasn't watching the fire anymore, but sitting against the trunk of a tree, looking up at him. "I can see it in your eyes."

He didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't deny it, she'd always seen right through him. It was disconcerting, but he'd come to like it. Most of the time. "Yeah, well, y'know it's kind of hard not to sometimes," he said bitterly. She looked down at her hands in her lap, then back up at him.

"It's not your fault," she said.

"How can you say that?" he asked angrily. "If I'd _known_ she wasn't you, Olivia, we wouldn't be like this," he said gesturing between the two of them. "This, this thing between us. I hate it. Before all of this happened, we were just dancing around each other. Avoiding our feelings. But now it's like they're out in the open, but we can't do anything, we don't know where we stand with each other, and of course that's my fault!"

A stick bounced off of the side of his head. He swore. He should have seen that coming. Ouch. Goddamn, she not only hit hard, she threw hard too.

"I hate to break it to you Peter, but not everything's about _you_," she retorted angrily. "Don't go thinking that you can blame yourself for all of this, because it's _not your fault!_" she stood up. "I mean, sure, I still wonder sometimes how you couldn't see that she wasn't me, but she was a fucking good liar Peter, I know that first hand, she was a damn good actress, and she was motivated as hell, thinking she was protecting her family and her friends by doing this. And it's my fault, for saying I don't want to be with you, because I don't know what the fuck I want right now! And mostly it's Walternate's fault, for starting this war, and for ordering her to do whatever she had to gain your trust. And it's Walter's fault, for stealing you as a child, but you know what?" He was horrified to see that she had tears in her eyes. "I'm _glad_ he did, because I'm selfish enough to know that if he hadn't, I never would have met you, and to be honest I can't imagine my life without you! Even with all this god damn tension and anger and sadness, it's better than it was when you weren't here, when you ran away because you were to cowardly to face the truth! Uhng!"

She stormed off, and he watched her stomp away angrily, her long golden hair dancing out behind her. He sighed, sitting down where she had been before, leaning against the tree, and put his head in his hands. He hadn't meant to upset her. That was just like Olivia. Only she would be angry at him for _not_ being angry at her.

Fuck, she'd given him a lot to think about. _I don't know what the fuck I want right now. _Well that was better than 'I don't want to be with you' at least. A little flicker of hope was ignited inside him. Small, but most definitely there. _I can't imagine my life without you_. The hope got slightly brighter. _Even with all this god damn tension and anger and sadness, it's better than it was when you weren't here_. She was right, he'd been a coward, running away without even saying goodbye. He still blamed himself, but maybe this wasn't _entirely _his fault. Just 75% of it.

He needed to talk to her. He decided to give her a little time to cool off, and then go looking for her. This wasn't going to be another one of their things that they just pretended didn't happen, he promised himself.

… … …

When he found her, she was back at the pool of water, sitting on the rocks close to the small waterfall, her back to him. He stood there watching her for a moment. If he hadn't been able to see her long sweatpants-clad legs he could have though she was a mermaid, sitting in the hot sun. Maybe a goddess then, or a fairy. Her gold hair was catching the sun, and little sparkles of light reflecting off of the water danced around her skin.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, not turning around. He took the fact that she wasn't yelling as a good sign, and approached her, sitting down beside her. The sun was warming up his bare skin, he'd have a tan soon.

"You'll probably throw another stick at me again," he said, and she turned her head to face his. Her so were such a pretty green, like emeralds in the sunlight.

"Are you still blaming yourself?" she asked.

"Mostly yes, but that wasn't what I was thinking about. I was actually thinking about how beautiful you looked sitting by the water.

She turned her head away, her cheeks turning a rosy pink that just completed the image of a fairy or a mermaid. "Well you must need your vision checked out, because I'm covered in dirt, sweat and my own blood, and I really need to wash my hair."

"Nope, my vision is right as rain," he said. She tucked her head into her chest embarrassedly, a small smile on her face. And just then, all their yelling was completely worth it, to see her smile, _really_ smile, because of him.

"I've never understood that saying," she said. "What's so right about rain?"

"You know Olivia, you've really got to start learning to accept compliments," he said, slightly joking but mostly serious.

"Yeah, well, I've never been good at it," she said.

"I'll teach you," he promised with a slight laugh. He sighed. "I'm sorry for making you mad Olivia.

"I'm sorry for throwing a stick at your head," she said. "You've got a scratch there." she brushed the edge of his jawbone, and he repressed a shiver at her touch. Her hands were so soft, her touch so light.

"Yeah. You know, that's the third time in twenty four hours that you've deliberately injured me," he said. "You really shouldn't get into the habit."

"Well don't say stupid things," she replied with a smile.

"I'll do my best. No promises," he said. They sat quietly, watching the pool of water ripple and glimmer. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked.

"I meant every word of what I said," she replied with a sigh. "Peter, I've spent the last few weeks distracting myself from thinking about my own feelings. I mean, all I've done is work, work, research crazy scientific theories, work, work, drink coffee, drink more coffee, and oh yeah maybe a meal and some sleep, occasionally," she said. "Everything all just finally caught up with me. The lack of coffee probably didn't help," she admitted. "But you blaming yourself made me realise that I don't blame you. Much. And that even with all this goddamn tension, I don't mind it because it means you're here." She didn't say anything else, but Peter didn't need her to. It was enough that she was talking to him about this - opening up to anyone had always been hard for her. They had that in common. He took one of her hands in his and squeezed in gently, cautiously toeing the line, wanting to nudge it a little bit but not push her to far. When she didn't pull her hand out of his, he left it there.

After a few minutes, she stood up, tugging his hand and pulling him with her. "Come on," she said with a smile that lit up her whole face. "Lets go swimming."

"Are you joking?" he asked, looking at her closely. She shrugged.

"Why not? It's a hot day, and I know I sure as hell could use a wash." Wow. She was serious.

It took a lot of his self control when she began tugging her t-shirt off right in front of him, revealing a lot of exposed skin, more scratches and bruises, and her simple black bra. She tugged off her track pants, and waded into the water, until it was up to her waist. "Are you coming in or not?" she called with a laugh.

"You're crazy woman," he said, quickly stripping down to his boxers and joining her. It was so good to see her happy. "Holy mother fucker that's cold!" he exclaimed. The water was like ice, while the sun burned his skin. It was a strange feeling.

"Oh, is it?" she asked, a mischievous look on her face.

"Yes, it-" a huge splash of freezing cold water soaked him, and he looked at her in shock. She was giggling, slowly moving away. "Oh, you're going to pay for that!" he warned, and took off after her in the water. She squealed as he threw his arms around her waist, dunking them both under the water. He swam back up, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and looking around for her. He was alone.

"'Livia?" he said, worried, treading water. "'Livia, where are y- ahh!" he said as something wrapped around his ankle, giving him a sharp tug underneath the water. He opened his eye to see Olivia floating underwater beside him, grinning, small bubbles of air escaping her mouth as she laughed. God, she looked gorgeous, her hair floating behind her. He glared at her playfully, before following her up to the surface for air, and swam over to where they could both touch the bottom.

She gasped, taking in deep breaths. "That was _not _funny!" he said.

"Oh, I don't know," Olivia said. "I thought it was."

"Oh really?" he said, raising his eyebrows, and suddenly lunging forward and grabbing her. "You think it was, do you?" he said, tickling her sides as she squirmed and squealed, giggling.

"Please, please, stop, stop!" she said, gasping for air. He stopped tickling her, but left his arms locked around her waist. She giggled again, her chest heaving, water dripping down her face. She was so close, pressed up against him, her hands resting on his bare chest. He stroked her cheek with one hand. Before he knew what was happening, he brushed his lips against hers softly.

"Peter …" she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Peter, I can't …"

"Hey," he said. "It's okay. I'm sorry."

A tear dripped down her cheek, and he hugged her into him, the water sloshing around their waists, and she rested her head onto his chest. She tucked her under her chin. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," she whispered, and he chuckled. "No, it's not your fault Peter … I just can't. Not yet. I'm sorry.""It's okay," he murmured into her hair, holding her a little tighter. He'd pushed her a little too far, he understood that. He stroked her hair. "I can wait, Liv. I can wait for as long as you want."

_And I think I might love you_.

… … …

**A/N:** Well, that didn't happen the way I thought it would. It took all my self-control not to switch to Olivia's POV a few times there, it's so much easier for me to write. I also planned on putting in a tiny little section from Broyles' POV at the end, but it just didn't seem right, so that's how I'll start the next chapter.

Ahh, I love writing P/O fluff, especially when Peter's all understanding and perfect-boyfriend-ish. He's so cute.

Um, I think you owe me a review for having Peter in just his boxers, and dripping wet. And Olivia for that matter, they're both damn HOT. I mean, if that doesn't deserve a review, I don't know what does!

Xo


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is definitely AU now, after Reciprocity. Which was an amazing episode that made me squeal at the Peter/Olivia parts, and by the end had me scared like crazy. In fact, I'm still scared. *Sobs about Peter and his crazy weapony-ness.*  
(Okay now, shut up Boronia, no one cares).

Oh, and can I say that all the reviews I'm getting are lovely! Thank you to Clem86, who asked why they hadn't looked for the camp yet, and gave me the idea for this chapter.

Uh yeah, I don't own Fringe, I live in Australia, blah blah, I will keep doing this every chapter because I'm scared someone will forget and flame at me for having terrible spelling. (I do make mistakes though. This whole story is completely unbetad.)

Hem hem. Get on with the writing Boronia.

… … …

Special Agent Philip Broyles sighed, putting his head in his hands. He had never meant for _this_ to happen. Okay, he wouldn't lie, he had used this 'survival course' as an excuse to try and get them together. Professionally, he told himself that it was because they would work better if they got rid of all of this tension between them, but if he was being honest with himself, he just wanted to see them both happy for once. God knows they deserved it. And if sending them off to the middle of nowhere together was the only way to accomplish that, then so be it. (And, okay, so maybe he had a hidden romantic side. They _would_ make a great couple!)

Hearing his phone ring, he reached into his pocket and answered it.

"Broyles."

"_I'm sorry to bother you again sir, but Walter wont get off my back about calling you," _a familiarly exasperated voice said.

"Don't worry about it Agent Farnsworth," Broyles replied. "I'm doing everything I can to find them - if they haven't been located by tomorrow evening, we'll send out helicopters and heat signature detectors."

"_Okay, I'll tell Walter. Do you think there's any chance of this being a Fringe event, that they're not simply lost?" _she asked.

"I thought the same thing myself at first," he replied. "But then I realised their compass had been magnetised. I'm not ruling out a Fringe event, but I think it's more likely that they're just lost somewhere. Don't worry Agent Farnsworth, they're both very resourceful."

"_Yeah," _she replied. _"It's just that it's such a big forest, and we don't know how much food and water they've got left …"_

"If any," Broyles finished. "I know. I'm concerned too." He sighed again. "I'm sure they'll both be fine."

"_If they haven't torn each other's clothes off yet," _she said with a chuckle, then gasped, realising what she had just said to her boss. _"I mean, I, gosh, I'm sorry-"_

Broyles chuckled. "We've all been thinking the same thing," he said. "I really should get back to the search - I'll alert you if anything new comes up. Give my regards to Doctor Bishop."

"_Yes sir," _Astrid said and hung up the phone quickly. Broyles chuckled again.

Actually, he'd be pretty pissed off if _something_ hadn't happened between the two of them when they were found - he dragged half the Boston Federal Building out to the middle of nowhere to try and play cupid for the two of them, and look at the results!

… … …

Olivia ran her fingers through her hair. It had been about a day since they had gone swimming in the lake, and ever since then it had been _boiling_ hot. The nights were still freezing cold, but today Olivia was sure it was at least 100 degrees.

Her relationship with Peter had improved a lot since their swimming trip. She'd expected it to be awkward (after all, he'd kissed her), but it really wasn't. It was … peaceful. Calm. It made her happy.

In truth, she'd been having quite a bit of trouble getting that kiss out of her head. She knew she'd said no, but she was beginning to regret her decision. His lips had been so soft on hers, it brought back the memory of the time she'd _actually_ kissed him, Over There.

It was also making her think about things that weren't made any easier by the fact that he walked around without a shirt, that she'd woken up pressed against his firm body again this morning, and that it was boiling hot and they were both sweaty and it had _really_ been a long time since she'd gotten laid …

_Okay, time to stop right there_, she thought to herself.

"Maybe I should go take a cold shower," she muttered to herself sarcastically. She would kill for a shower right about now. She would also kill for a soft feather bed, a cold drink of water, a coffee, and a _lot_ of food. They were trying to ration what they had left, but it wasn't much and she was so hungry …

"What was that?" Peter asked curiously from where he was tending the fire, which they were attempting to keep alive but not prone to spreading on such a hot day. At least it wasn't windy.

"Oh, you don't want to know," she replied, running her hand over her hair again.

"_Really?_" he asked in a suggestive voice.

"Yes," she said bluntly. "Really."

"Are you _sure_?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay, so maybe you _do_ want to know. But I still have _some_ pride."

He shrugged, looking up and down the length of her body obviously, his eyes scanning her appraisingly, then turning back to the fire. "If you're sure."

Okay, she'd admit she wasn't wearing much more than him. All she had were her Northwestern t-shirt, her sweatpants and her jeans. All of which weren't the best for a hot day. So, instead she'd taken to the jeans with the Swiss Army knife, turning them into cut-off short shorts, and just walked around in her black bra. If he could walk around half naked, then she could too, right? Besides, he'd seen it all before.

A thought popped into her head, and it was out of her mouth before she could think.

"How _don't_ you see her?" He turned and looked at her, all the flirtatious teasing suddenly disappearing. "Sorry, it just popped into my head, I shouldn't have said it out loud," she tried to smooth over.

"No," Peter said. "What did you mean by that?"

"Um. Well, when you look at me like _that_, the way you were looking at me before … how do you _not_ look at me and think of her?" she asked quietly. "You look at me like what's under there is all a mystery you'd like to uncover … how do you not think, well, you've seen it all before?"

She blushed. Maybe she'd misinterpreted his look. The heat was really messing with her head. She'd like a coffee right about now. Even if it was hot.

"She's not you, and you're not her," he said simply. "It _is_ all a mystery."

"Not really," she argued. "Physically, we're exactly the same."

"I wont admit it wasn't hard, at first," Peter said unhappily. "But my mind just … separates the two of you now. I don't think about what she looks like when I see you." he winced. "I am now that you've brought it up. But most of the time, I don't find it hard anymore."

She wouldn't lie, that stung, but she appreciated his honesty.

"Thanks Peter," she said earnestly. "Really."

"Yeah," was all he replied.

Olivia went back to thinking about how hot it was. If she melted into a puddle right now, she wouldn't be surprised. And her fringe was sticking to her face. She'd cut off the bottom of the hem of the jeans she had attacked, and used it to tie her hair up, but there was nothing she could do to get her fringe off of her face. It wasn't long enough to tie back, but too long to wear as a blunt fringe, so since she'd been out here she'd been wearing it as a side fringe.

"I've just had an idea!" Peter said excitedly. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes?"

"If we get up on higher ground, we might be able to try and spot the camp."

"What if it's miles and miles away?" Olivia asked. "We'd be better just to stay put."

"True, but it will give us something to do, and I'd feel better if we could at least try," he responded. She sighed.

"Lets get going."

… … …

"I see it!" Peter said excitedly. They were at the top of one of the tallest mountains, looking out over the forest around them. She had to admit, even with her preference for the city, it looked very picturesque. It also made her appreciate how big this goddamn forest was - there were trees _everywhere_. It was a little disconcerting for her - she'd always lived in cities or suburban areas, where the most trees were the ones at central park, or the picnic spot down the street.

And indeed, about five miles away was a large clearing with white buildings rimmed by trees. She felt like just running towards it and not stopping until she was either dead or in a cool, comfortable bed.

But by the time they had climbed to the top of the mountain, Olivia was exhausted. Of course, she didn't say anything, but her body was still aching from her fall, they were quickly running out of water, and she was starting to feel slightly dizzy.

That was about when she fell.

It didn't feel like she was falling; it felt like the ground was tipping up towards her, quite disconcerting really. She didn't hit the ground particularly hard, and she definitely wasn't unconscious, because she could see Peter's alarmed face above her, and she could feel his hands on her skin. But his voice was as though he was speaking from a long distance away, and the edges of her vision were fuzzy.

_You must be suffering acute exhaustion and possibly dehydration_, her ever-rational brain told her. Everything was so … detached. Slightly like she was back in the sensory deprivation tank again.

She wasn't alarmed about her mind's prognosis on her condition. God knows she'd been through worse. Much worse. But Peter, oh Peter looked so worried. She felt a trickle of something cool over her face, and then down her throat - he was pouring the water on her. The feeling woke her up slightly.

"Shit," she murmured. "Peter, I'm sorry."

She began trying to sit up, but he held her down. Olivia frowned.

"Peter, let me sit up."

"Not a chance. Are you okay Olivia? And don't you dare say you're fine, because I'm really worried right now."

His voice was getting clearer with every syllable. She could feel and hear everything better now. Her head ached a little, but she didn't think she'd hit it when she fell. "I don't know what happened. One moment I was thinking about how tired I was, and then the next the ground was tipping. Please, Peter, let me sit up."

Carefully, he helped her sit up against a tree. She leaned against him, surprised at how much she needed his support. "Why didn't you say something, Olivia? We could have rested for a moment." She could hear the concern laced through his voice. "No, don't answer that. I know what you'll say."

"Oh yeah?" she murmured. "What's that?"

"Something about how you didn't notice, or you thought you were okay."

"Well it's true," she grumbled, slightly disgruntled. She let out a deep breath of air, trying to stabilise herself.

"You've got all the symptoms of acute exhaustion," Peter said, not even trying to pretend he wasn't worried.

"But_ why_?" she asked.

"Well … You've been running on caffeine and little else since you came home. Your body has become reliant on it, and with the sudden withdrawal, it doesn't know how to cope. It doesn't help that the cave floor we've spent the past two nights on doesn't let us get much sleep, and the stressful situations we're in, and the lack of food." His deep blue eyes looked into her leafy green ones. "Olivia, you're so fucking _skinny_," he whispered. "I know we haven't had much food since we got here, but had you been eating at all back in Boston?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I don't know Peter. The past few weeks have been … kind of like the way I felt when I collapsed. So … detached. Like I'm there physically, but I'm working like a robot. I've spent so long just avoiding everything in my mind …"

"Olivia," he whispered, and sat down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. His fingers traced her rib bones - when had you been able to see them so clearly? When had her collar bone began sticking out so scarily? When had her waist become so tiny?

When had she become so _fragile?_

"I'm pretty fucked up, aren't I?" she asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

"Yeah," Peter admitted sadly. "You are. But you'll be alright, in the end. I know it."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely, Liv." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "I promise."

… … …

"We've got to get moving," Olivia said. "I know that just sitting here isn't going to make me better. I need food, but obviously that's not going to happen, so I want to go back to the pool. The water is nice and cool, and it'd be nice if I could get some sleep."

"Okay," Peter agreed. "But only if you eat this." He pulled their last chocolate bar from his pocket. "It's probably pretty melted, but if nothing you're going to need a sugar hit to get back down the mountain," he explained. She nodded, and quickly ate the half-melted bar, savouring the sweet taste in her mouth.

"Alright. Let's get going."

It took them a while to get back down to The Scoop, probably three times as long as it took to get up, due to their slow pace and frequent stops that Peter insisted on.

She _hated_ feeling this weak. She hated depending on other people. She hated being out of control. Of course, Peter saw that on her face, but she was grateful that he chose not to give her a pep-talk right then. Right now, she had enough things to be worrying about. Like the condition of her body, and the condition of her mind. Oh yeah, and the condition of her relationship of the man currently helping her back to The Scoop.

Yeah, she was fucked up, that was for sure.

"It's getting dark," she mused aloud. "Wow. We must have taken _ages_ coming down that hill."

"Probably," Peter said. They had finally arrived back in their clearing. Olivia sank down onto the ground, lying on her side and sighing. She was still outside - slightly more comfortable than the rocky cave floor, lying on a grassy patch. Peter began tending to the fire, building it up to last through the night. He was getting pretty good at managing it. "Olivia, you need to get changed, you'll freeze," Peter stated.

"Not tonight. I have a feeling it's going to be a warm night, after such a hot day," she insisted. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Are you going to go back into the cave?"

"Nope. It's comfy here."

"Okay. You might want to get some sleep then," he advised.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Will you talk to me? To help me get to sleep?"

"Sure," Peter said easily," sitting down cross-legged on the ground beside her. "On one condition."

"You want me to tell you what happened Over There," she guessed. Peter's face was surprised, and she smiled slightly. "I know you," she said. "And I'll tell you. I have to sometime, and after today, I guess I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything Olivia," he argued.

"Yeah I do," she replied. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather up the strength she had left. She didn't particularly want to do this, but she would have to, and she _did_ owe him. Besides, he deserved the truth.

"Where do you want me to start?" she whispered.

"The beginning," he replied equally as softly. "What happened at the opera house?"

"I couldn't tell you," Olivia replied. "I have no idea. I heard a shout, and then next thing I know I wake up in a padded cell in the dark …"

She continued her story from there, explaining what she'd been through. She decided to tell it like she'd read it in a book, giving him all the facts, but keeping her emotions out of it. He didn't need to know how scared she'd been. How helpless she'd felt. How _confused_.

By the time it was over, her head was in his lap as he stroked her hair. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"No," she murmured. "If I'd just told you about the glimmer, if I hadn't kept it a secret, then -"

"Oh no, don't you dare trying to pin this one on yourself sweetheart," he warned. "None of this is your fault."

"It's not yours either," she said. "Do you know what made me fight, when I was over there? Do you know how I realised who I was? I saw hallucinations of you, Peter. When I thought I was _her_, you kept coming up me. You kept telling me that I couldn't forget who I was. That I couldn't forget where I was from. You wouldn't shut up - I thought I was going crazy. You even kissed me once," she said. "You were the only thing that got me through."

Peter didn't say anything. Nothing needed to be said, really. They had come to an understanding, and she could tell that he was still taking everything she'd said in. "I'm going to sleep," Olivia whispered. The sun had set a while ago - her story had taken a while. As she had predicted, it was a nice night, and with the fire flickering nearby everything was comfortably warm. "Will you stay here?"

"If you want me to," he replied.

"I'd like that."

He gently lifted her head from his lap and lay down next to her, curling gently around her body, her back touching his stomach. The feel of his bare skin against hers stirred something low in her stomach, but she was too tired to pay it much attention. His arms wrapped around her, and she made a soft noise of contentment.

No matter which universe, this was where she belonged.

… … …

**A/N: **Gosh, why do I always end up injuring Olivia?

Sorry this chapter took so long to get up. School year just started for me (I'm beginning year 10), so I've been pretty busy. It also means I wont be able to update as often, but I'm hoping to still get up one chapter per week.

Can I take this time to do some shameless self-promotion? I recently posted a one shot, it's called 'Once Upon A Time'. And I actually happen to like it, which doesn't happen often with my own work, so it'd mean a lot to me if you could check it out :}

Also, I'd just like to say that for this fic, the rating will not go above T. Smut is just _not_ my thing. You know, year 10 in school, I don't have much (and by not much I mean none at all) experience in that department. No smut-tastic chapters from me. Sorry.

Well, did you like it? Did you hate it? Or do you just want to yell at me for continuously injuring Olivia? You know what to do!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _I TOLD YOU SO! _Sorry, just had to get that out. I knew AltLivia was pregnant, but no one believed me.

Anyway. Hem-hem. Once again (I don't think some of you got the message last time): _**THERE WILL NOT BE SMUT**__**. **_Nothing graphic, at least. I can't write it for the life of me. I'm sorry! I know some people want some hot-and-steamy stuff, but believe me, it's better if I don't even try.

Sorry this chapter is so late. That pesky little thing called 'real life' keeps getting in the way.

I don't own Fringe, I'm from Australia, you know the drill.

… … …

Rachel Dunham paced her sister's living room floor for the thousandth - no, _millionth_ time, wringing her hands worriedly. As soon as Agent Broyles (Olivia's boss) had called her, she'd flown straight out to Boston with Ella and had been staying in Olivia's apartment since. She was sure Olivia wouldn't mind, and she knew where the spare key was.

"Mum, when will they find Aunt Liv?" Ella asked from where she was reading a book on the couch.

"I don't know sweetie. Soon, hopefully," she replied. Her phone beeped, and she took it out of her pocket to answer it. "Rachel Dunham," she spoke.

"Miss Dunham? It's Agent Broyles."

"Have you found her?" Rachel asked, her heart leaping. Ella perked up, looking attentively. She had been so worried about Liv.

"I'm afraid not. I'm calling because I thought you should know that the storm that's due to hit Boston later today will most likely pass right through the forest in which they are in."

"Oh my god," Rachel said. The weatherman had been warning everyone about the strong winds and rain, and possible thunder and lightning that might strike just that morning. "Do you think she and Peter will be okay?"

"I'm not sure," the man replied honestly. "This wont be an easy one to ride out. But they're both very smart, and if there's anyone I know that could do it, it's Olivia Dunham."

She half laughed. "Yes, you're probably right. Thankyou for telling me."

"You're welcome. I'm very sorry Miss Dunham."

She hung up the phone. Ella looked at her. "Are Aunt Liv and Uncle Peter going to be okay?" she asked with a maturity that most little girls didn't have. She got that from Olivia.

"I hope so, sweetie," Rachel said, wiping a tear from her face. "They're both very strong, smart people, but there's a storm headed in their direction, and it might be a bit hard to go through."

"Aunt Liv can do anything," Ella said with confidence. "She'll be alright. And Peter will protect her."

"Oh baby, I hope so," Rachel said, scooping her up. "I really hope so."

… … …

When Olivia woke up, she was … peaceful. Her eyes flickered open to meet Peter's, who was leaning back, watching her. His eyes were bright as he looked at her with a soft smile on his face. She blinked, adjusting to the light, before smiling back.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Good afternoon," Peter said.

"Afternoon? How long have I been asleep?"

"About eighteen hours," he said. "Your body needed time to rejuvenate itself after yesterday." She groaned.

"You should have woken me," she grumbled, propping herself up on her elbows and pushing her fringe off of her face.

"You needed the rest," he said with a shrug. "And I got some stuff done that you might be interested in while you slept."

"What?" she asked curiously. He half-smiled, half-grimaced.

"I know that you're hungry," he said. "And you _need_ food Olivia. You look like you might snap in two if you don't get some fat on your bones. The moment we get back to Boston, I'm forcing a cheeseburger down your throat."

"What does that have to do with what you managed to do while I was asleep?" she asked slightly suspiciously.

"Well, I was watching you sleep-"

"-stalker-"

"-There wasn't much else to look at! I was thinking about how you're going to get really sick if you don't have some food. So, I was trying to think of something you could eat. This is our third day out here now. And it came to me; fish!"

"Oh no," she moaned, sitting up properly and crawling over to a tree, leaning back against it. "I don't like fish."

"Please Olivia?" he begged. "I used the Swiss army knife to gut it and make it edible and cooked it and everything. It's not bad, if I do say so myself. There might be a few tiny little bones, but mainly it's pretty good."

"How do you catch it?" she asked. He winced.

"I hooked a worm onto one of those paperclips we had lying around," he said with a grimace. "Poor worm. I knew that the rope would be too thick, so I separated a few of the strands and attached it to a stick, with the paperclip on the end."

"You got them from our pool?' she asked. He shook his head.

"No. The stream that runs into the pool doesn't have a great amount of fish. I followed it up for about half a mile, before coming to the river it ran off of. There were plenty in there, it didn't take long to catch one."

"Well I appreciate all the effort you went to, but I really don't like fish," she said. He looked at her imploringly.

"I don't want you getting sicker, Olivia. You need _food_. Tell me you don't still feel exhausted."

"I feel fine," she protested. He looked at her disbelievingly. "Okay, my arms and legs ache a little. But besides that, I'm fine."

"Please Olivia," he said. "_Please_."

She sighed in defeat. "Fine, as long as it doesn't have eyes, or any discernible features."

"Thankyou," he said with a smile, jumping up and heading over to the fire. The fish were speared on a stick over the fire. He eased the pieces off, inspecting them, and then sitting back down opposite her and spreading his hands out to her.

They mainly just looked like small, thin chunks of meat. Olivia took one from him tentatively, placing it on her tongue. Peter's free hand pushed her chin up gently with an endearing smile. "Chew, swallow," he instructed. She obeyed dutifully.

"That wasn't too bad," she said.

"Not too bad?" he asked in mock shock. "These fish are a delicacy! I should become chef when we get back to the city."

"Then what would I do?" she asked, picking up another piece and putting it in her mouth. "Who would save my ass from Shapeshifters and monsters and creeps with guns?"

"In case you didn't notice, it's usually my ass that ends up in need of saving," Peter pointed out. "But, if you really insist, I'll give up my true calling to frequently put my life on the line for you."

"We both know you'd do it anyway," she teased.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I would."

Olivia stood up, feeling a lot better now that she had some food in her. "Do we have water?" she asked. Peter handed her a bottle that she drank from greedily, guzzling most of it before handing it back. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked.

"Well, I figured there's no point heading towards the camp, it's too far off," Peter told her. "But I think there's another problem we're going to have to do something about." He pointed over her head towards the horizon, where a collection of very dark and angry looking clouds were hovering, looking ready to ruin their lovely sunny weather. "We need to prepare before _that_ hits us."

"Shit," Olivia muttered. "Are you sure it's headed our direction?"

"The wind is going to blow that storm right over the top of us," Peter said. "I'd estimate about six hours before it hits."

"Stupid unpredictable weather," Olivia cursed. "It's been boiling hot these past few days, and now we're getting a storm?"

"God has a whacked out sense of humour," Peter agreed with a nod. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's start getting ready for this storm."

It was only later that she realised with a small smile that she hadn't corrected him calling her 'sweetheart'.

… … …

Olivia checked her watch, and then the sky. The ever-encroaching storm was getting nearer and nearer. She didn't like the looks of those clouds; something about their shape and colour seemed very ominous, and a few times she could have sworn she heard distant thunder.

Peter was out trying to catch more fish, while she was attempting to move the fire from outside the cave to the inside. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea, as there would be a lot of smoke in the cave, but it looked like they would be needing the heat. As the day was going on, the temperature was dropping, until it was far too cold for her to go around in her denim shorts and bra like she had been for the past few days. She'd changed into her thick, black sweatpants and Northwestern t-shirt.

She was at a loss to how they could get the fire into the cave. Besides poking it with sticks, which wasn't very effective, it wasn't moving far. As she watched it in frustration, the water they'd had boiling started bubbling and steaming, indicating it was ready to be poured. She carefully filled up the plastic bottle. They had four bottles, and they tried to ensure that they were filled at all times, which meant that they had water boiling almost constantly. Although all the bottles were full at the moment, Olivia untied the bucket to collect more water from the lake again, before she had an idea. Tipping the remaining water out of the tin bucket, she began to work.

When she was finished, Peter was back with half a dozen fish wrapped in some material they had left over from her makeshift bandage. "Hey, did you get the fire inside?" he asked.

"Kind of," she replied, and gestured him inside The Scoop. His wood-and-duct tape frame was sitting in the middle of the rocky floor, the bucket hanging from it. But instead of boiling water in the bucket, there was a small but hot fire burning. "I couldn't move it in here," Olivia explained. "But I figured that if I could get a fire going in there, it would provide some heat for us, and less smoke. We'll just have to keep refuelling it, because I think it burns out about every half hour."

"That's perfect," Peter said with a wide smile, walking over and inspecting it. "We'll have to bring lots of wood inside the cave first though, because when the storm comes it'll all get wet."

"Yeah," she agreed, feeling secretly proud of herself. She had been feeling a little worthless when they were out here - it felt like Peter did all the work and had all the smart ideas.

"Now, I think we should have a go at my next idea," Peter said. "If it works. It's very possible that it wont."

"Yeah?" she asked interestedly. He put the fish down on top of one of their backpacks.

"When I came back here, I took a different route, and a passed a group of ferns. And the fronds that they had were _huge_, and pretty thick and strong-looking too. I was thinking we could use them to make a shelter to keep the rain out."

… … …

Two hours later, Olivia stood up, wiping sweat from her forehead. She and Peter had spent ages gathering huge fern fronds and tying them together with rope and occasionally duct tape. The end result was a large, green matt of tightly interwoven leaves. She would give Peter full credit for the design - mostly she had just tied rope around the places he asked her too, and blunted the Swiss army knife a great deal trying to hack at the stems. She had to admit, it was pretty impressive.

"Well, that's that," Peter said, holding it up and placing it over the entrance to The Scoop. It sat firmly.

"What will happen when the wind blows it away?" Olivia asked. Peter cursed under his breath.

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. Simultaneously, they both looked up at the sky. The storm wasn't far off - they were both getting colder and colder, the sky getting darker and darker.

"Look, you go collect some firewood and get it inside, and I'll worry about the shelter," she instructed. He nodded and headed into the trees. Olivia went over to their old fire, picking up the stones that surrounded it, and began using them to pin it down.

By the time Peter got back, it was starting to drizzle slightly. Olivia ushered him into the cave to put down all the wood, before pulling him back out to observe her handiwork. She had reinforced the shade with lots of heavy rocks and sticks, leaning them up against the leaves and pinning them to the cave entrance. "I think it will hold," she said nervously. "Well, I'm hoping so."

"It looks good to me," Peter said with a smile. "C'mon, let's get inside." he ducked under the corner Olivia had left open, so that they could get through. She picked up her last rock, slipped through into the cave and pinned the fern leaves down behind her securely just as the rain got heavier.

"Great timing, hey?" Peter said with a grin. She smiled, joining him at the back of the cave. The small fire was providing a bit of heat, but no where near as much as she would have liked. They sat quietly for a minute, listening to the rain beat heavier and heavier, the wind pick up ferocity, and thunder rumble increasingly loudly.

"This is going to be one hell of a night," Olivia remarked.

"Sweetheart," Peter replied. "I could not agree more."

… … …

**A/N: **Have you watched '6B' yet? My internet has been having problems, so (because Australia is about three weeks behind) I haven't got a chance to yet - and you have no idea how crazy I've been going! Especially as I've been unable to avoid spoilers, so I pretty much know what happened …

So, while I sit here getting more and more frustrated by the second, would you like to leave me a review to help get me through?Oh hey, that rhymed!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I promised you all no smut. So what do I do? I write smut. Well, sort of. This chapter is for all of you who requested it. It's not very long and it's not very good, and I was extremely hesitant about posting it. I hope you all bare with me. So consider this chapter to be M rated. I suppose. If you don't like that, I suggest to give it a miss.

I finally saw 6B! And yes it was amazing. _Amazing_. Really, Peter and Olivia finally getting it on pretty much made my entire week. It may also have been what compelled me to write smut. That, and some _very_ hot fanfics.

No copyright inFRINGEment intended. I live in Australia, so don't go on a rage to me complaining about my spelling, if I put an S where Americans would put a Z or something. Usually I'm lucky, but it has happened before.

… … …

It had been a _very_ long time.

That was really all she could think about, curled up with Peter in the back corner of the cave. The storm outside was raging fiercely, blowing freezing cold air and raindrops through their makeshift barrier. The small fire in the can they'd had going had become more of a hazard then a help when the wind made it swing around dangerously dropping hot coals everywhere, so they'd put it on the ground, careful not to put it close enough that they might actually touch it, which reduced the heat dispersal a great deal. Which really only left one other thing - body heat. Body heat that Peter had been only too happy to provide. And unfortunately, Olivia found that she really needed it. She was skinnier than ever, and the freezing cold air chilled her to the bone.

Somehow, in the midst of getting frostbite, she was still managing to think about sex. Sex with Peter, to be more specific. Sex with the man who she was currently pressed up against firmly, his strong hands on her back. Their breaths were creating steam in the air around them, and Peter's hands began rubbing against her back absentmindedly, trying to create friction (the idiot obviously hadn't realised it wouldn't work between clothes) to keep her warm.

Suffice to say, this was not the best predicament in which to be having inappropriate fantasies about her partner. No, scratch that. This was more than just fantasies. It was pure, raw _need_, need that had been slowly building for the past few days, hell, perhaps even years. There was only so long she could be the perfect picture of abstinence. She had earned a good fuck with someone, and she had a hard time picturing it happening with anyone else.

"Liv, you're not going to like this, but we're going to have to strip down to our underwear and use our clothes as blankets to contain body heat."

No, he had _no idea_ how much she was going to like that. He just had to make things more difficult for her, didn't he? Curse this crazy, unpredictable weather. First sweltering hot days that had him walking around without a shirt on, sweat dripping down his body, and then days so freezing cold they were going to have to be almost naked to warm up.

"Fine," she said, quickly stripping down to her underwear. Black and black, as usual, nothing much special there. Peter picked up the clothes they'd dropped to the floor, looking up at her.

"Livia? Are you okay?" he asked, looking confused by the curious expression on her face.

_No, I'm not fine. Not at all. Mind fixing that?_

"Livia." His hands closed around the tops of her arms. Those hands. If he only knew how many fantasies those fingers of his had starred in … "Livia?"

Yeah, screw rationality.

She pushed him backwards up against the cave wall, her freezing cold body quickly heating up against his as she pressed her mouth to his, attacking his lips with hers. His response was almost immediate, their tongues fighting a battle for dominance for a moment before Peter seemed to come to his senses, breaking away gently.

"Livia. What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked in frustration. His eyes were clouded with desire, but rational sense was taking over quickly.

"Olivia. Just a few days ago, you wouldn't even kiss me."

"Please don't stop this Peter," she almost begged. "Please."

"You'll regret it after," he warned.

"No," she contradicted. "I don't think I will."

That was all it took for him to spin them around, pressing her bare back up against the rocky wall. She gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body flush against her. The cold air contrasted with the intense heat between their bodies, making her shiver both with cold and with pleasure. He kissed her mouth again briefly, before kissing down the side of her neck and sucking on her pulse point, his teeth scraping her bare skin. She moaned unashamedly, letting her heavy eyelids fall closed. His fingertips trailed down her sides, leaving tingly trails of goose bumps behind them that had nothing to do with the weather.

An overwhelming sense of _right_ entered her body. This was _how it was meant to be_. Screw separate universes. Screw affairs with alternate selves. Screw everything and anything that said that this was wrong. This was right. This was them, Peter and Olivia, and this was where they were supposed to be. With each other.

His fingers found the edge of her panties as his lips continued to assault her neck, pausing for a moment uncertainly. "Don't stop," she gasped between heavy breaths, her head falling forward to lean on his shoulder. The desire coursing through her body was almost painful in it's urgency, and he wasn't helping. Her hands travelled over the his firm, toned chest, feeling the muscles tense and flex under her fingers. His teeth grazed her earlobe, his tongue following as his hands dipped past the dark fabric, feeling their way down. Her breath caught in her throat and then let out in a moan as he began rubbing his fingers against her wetness, sending spasms of pleasure throughout her body, her inner muscles contracting. God, she was so close, and he was making her feel so good.

"Peter," she gasped, grinding her body down onto his hand. "Peter, Peter please …"

Never one to disappoint, he dipped one finger then another into her, teasing slightly and making her hiss in pleasure, before smiling smugly and pumping her faster.

Oh god. The _feeling_ her gave her. Despite the freezing cold temperature of the air she felt like her whole body was on fire, burning in the best way as his talented fingers elicited noises from her mouth that she wasn't even aware she was able to make. She could feel herself getting close and dug her fingers into his shoulders, leaving little red crescent shapes from her nails.

He was twisting his fingers expertly as she could feel her climax building, her muscles clenching around his fingers as she came crashing down screaming his name and biting his neck, waves of pleasure pulsing through her, her whole body shivering and shaking in intense pleasure. She was quite literally going weak at the knees, and let him support most of her body weight, her tongue lathing the bite on his neck as she tried to catch her breath.

"That was …" she finally said when she could breath again, looking into his eyes. He looked incredibly turned on, and also very worried that she was about to shut him down. "Amazing."

"Livia …"

"Shh," she whispered, silencing him with a quick kiss. "Thankyou. And I'm _not_ going to babble something about that being a moment of weakness or anything. I promise Peter."

He let himself smiled then. "In that case … will you let me take you out to dinner when we get back to the city?""I'd like that," she said with a smile, then she giggled.

"What?" he asked.

"Lots of inappropriate jokes about 'dessert' just popped into my head, she said, a tiny little bit of guilt in her voice.

Peter grinned cheekily and brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking her juices off of his fingers with a tiny sigh of satisfaction. The sight alone made Olivia's insides clench again. She stepped forward and pressed her body up against his again with a wicked grin, feeling his arousal press into her stomach. "Want me to take care of that for you?" she asked coyly.

Peter groaned. It was all the response she needed.

… … …

Olivia lay on the ground, her head pillowed against Peter's chest, their clothes lying over them to form a makeshift blanket. She shivered, pressing her body closer to his in an attempt to create some heat. Peter's hands rubbed against her bare back, trying to warm her up.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" he whispered in her. Lightning flashed outside, and she flinched. Her teeth were starting to chatter.

"Just cold," she replied. He sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not _your_ fault we're stuck out here," she protested. "In fact, you did a _very _good job warming me up earlier." She wasn't kidding. Just thinking about it, and his almost naked body (they'd put their underwear back on afterwards) underneath her made her insides clench tightly.

"And I'd be happy to do it again, if it weren't for the fact that we'd probably end up losing all the clothes on top of us that are keeping the heat in."

"And I think I have scratches where the rock surface of the cave scraped against my back," Olivia said. "I'm just so _cold_." Thunder boomed almost directly above their heads, so loud that it seemed to shake the ground.

"I really hope the cave doesn't collapse around us," Peter said conversationally. "Although maybe we'd be a bit warmer if it did."

"Don't joke about that," she said seriously, shivering again. "We work for the FBI, in the Fringe division. We can't die in a cave in. When I die, it's going to be exciting."

Peter looked at her amusedly. "I had you pegged for one of those people who didn't like to think about their own death."

Olivia half shrugged. "It's not something I'm particularly obsessed over. But wouldn't you feel a bit let down, if you worked in what is arguably the most dangerous division of the FBI, only to die because a rock hit your head?"

"You wouldn't feel anything," Peter pointed out logically. "You'd be dead."

"That depends on what you believe," she said.

"What do you believe?" Peter asked her. His hands were tracing soft patterns along her bare back, teasing her bra strap.

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "My mother was Catholic, but I stopped believing that there was a God the day my stepfather first hit her." Olivia's voice faltered slightly. "If God loved us all so much the way I was taught in Sunday School, then why did he let my stepfather hurt her?" she shrugged. "I'm not really sure what I believe in. If we become ghosts, don't you think there would be ghosts _everywhere_, the death rate being what it is. And they'd just keep on piling up over the years, and eventually we'd get a case about ghosts." They both chuckled slightly. "The concept of there being an afterlife seems pretty far fetched, as does being reincarnated. But we've seen weirder things."

"Indeed we have," Peter murmured in agreement. A particularly strong gust of wind made itself known through the temporary barrier, making Olivia shiver.

"What about you?" she asked. He didn't say anything for a moment, evidentially thinking.

"I'm not sure I really believe in anything specific either," he mused. "But … it's hard to believe that we just cease to exist, doesn't it? One minute we're there, the next minute we're not." Peter twirled the ends of her hair around his fingers. "I think I've got to keep faith that there might be something beyond life, because it makes it a little bit easier for me to watch you putting your life at risk every day," he confessed. "Not much easier, mind, but I'd like to think that if one day you do end up dieing, you'd be happy somewhere. Even if it's not here."

Olivia was quiet, slightly shocked. She sat up slightly, looking into his eyes. "You … you really care about me, don't you?" she said. Peter chuckled.

"Olivia." He stroked her cheek. "You're one of the smartest people I know - and I'm not talking about just IQ smart either - but there are some things you're kind of blind to, you know that?" He smiled softly. "Yes. I really care about you. I have for a long time, longer than you've known. I think sometimes I might love you." She bit her lip, tears clouding up her eyes but not spilling over. "You don't have to say anything back," he assured her. She gave him a small but honest smile.

"Thankyou," she whispered, leaning down and kissing him softly, before pulling back and resting her head back on his chest. They were quiet for a while, listening to the storm beating the forest around. "Can I ask something to spoil the lovely mood?"

"What?" he asked slightly apprehensively.

"Who's better in bed, me or her?" she asked cheekily. He chuckled.

"You," he replied. Olivia looked him in the eyes - he didn't look like he was lying. She could always read him. "I'm not going to lie and say she was _bad_, but you're both … different." He grinned. "I prefer you." Olivia smiled contentedly, snuggling closer to his chest. "Try and get some sleep sweetheart," he whispered to her. "I'll keep you warm."

Olivia sighed contentedly, relaxing her body against his and letting the storm outside lull her to sleep.

… … …

**A/N:** *Horrified face* I thought it was atrocious. I'm not going to write any more smut again, thankyou.

Review, if you want. I'm kind of terrified right now, so please … don't be _too_ mean!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** First off, thankyou to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I wasn't even going to post that it, so I really appreciate all your encouragement and kind words. The response this fic has gotten has honestly amazed me.

I pretty much wrote this chapter in my head while on the bus. Always awkward, especially when your friend is blabbering in your ear about something or rather, and you're not paying any attention at all.

*Insert usual note about copyright and Australianisms here.*

Oh, and by the way, sorry for my religious babble last chapter. I've been doing a lot of questioning and doubting lately, and I think that managed to work its way into the fic. I didn't change it because I pretty much typed the chapter up and posted it straight away while I still had the nerve.

… … …

She knew exactly where she was, who she was with, and why. And that information made her extremely happy, and slightly nervous. She wasn't going to run away - as if she could, in their current predicament - but she was slightly uneasy. But mostly she just felt happiness; possibly more happiness than she had in a very long time. Happiness that for once felt like it wasn't going to be compromised, or lost after a moment. This happiness felt … bright. She didn't even know what she meant by that, but that was the picture that came to her mind. Bright. Long-lasting. Comfortable. Real.

She would have been perfectly content to lie with him until he woke, but her body had other ideas. It was aching in protest to the many nights she had spent sleeping on the uncomfortable cave floor, and from she and Peter's _activities_ last night. She crawled off of him carefully, changing into a fresh pair of underwear and her sweatpants and jacket - it was still cold, though she couldn't hear any rain or wind. Tentatively, she peeked her head around their fern-leaf barrier, which by some miracle had survived last night.

She was greeted by the sight of what was possibly the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen. She stared for a moment at the breathtaking scenery, before ducking straight back in and racing over to Peter, shaking him.

"Peter! Peter, wake up!"

"Urunghhh," he groaned. "Livia? What's wrong? You don't-"

"No, just get up!" She pulled him up and waited impatiently for him to tug on his jeans and sweatshirt, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him outside. "Look!" she gestured with a wide smile.

He blinked a few times before gazing up at the sky with her, keeping his hand tight around hers.

The stormy clouds from last night were skirting around the horizon now, a circle of light blue above their heads. But the clouds where painted gorgeous pinks and oranges, purples and reds peeking out as well. The light was dancing off of the trees and rocks, turning the dull greens and browns into rainbows. For the few minutes that they stood there in silence they were the only people in the world, just Peter and Olivia and the choruses of birds and the gentle breeze tickling the leaves of the trees.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said happily, her face lit up in a joy that Peter wished he saw more often on her features.

"Yes, it is," he replied, no longer looking at the sky but at her. She turned to him and rolled her eyes.

"You are such a cliché," she teased. He just smiled, and sat down, leaning against the rocks at his back, pulling Olivia down to sit beside him.

They sat there for an immeasurable amount of time, watching the sky blossom into new colours and shapes as the sun slowly but steadily rose higher in the sky. Olivia rested her head on Peter's shoulder.

"Sorry about waking you," she apologised.

"No, I'm glad you did," he said honestly. "I thought that as you seem to dislike just about everything about the forest, you wouldn't be one to get so excited over a sunrise."

She blushed slightly. "When I was young, my dad - my _real_ dad - used to take me on his early morning jogs occasionally. I'd always look forward to it, waking up early, when it was still dark. Dad would carry me on his shoulders, and we'd always go to the same place - a patch of grass at the edge of a cliff, far out from the town. We would sit and watch the sunrise, from when the sun first peaked over the cliff until all the colours had left the sky, before turning around and going back home to the military base we were living at." She smiled peacefully. "I've always loved to see the sunrise since then - those are some of the only memories I have of my father."

Peter wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure that, wherever he is now, that he's proud of you Olivia."

"You think?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "I do."

… … …

She was trying out some of her shampoo and conditioner under the waterfall in the pool, trying to rid her hair of all the grit she could feel in it, even though logically she knew that the water from the pool was far from clean. The water was icy-cold, but the day had warmed up since the morning. Nothing like the scorching days they had been experiencing before, but pleasantly neither hot nor cold. Well, that was out of the water. Olivia was pretty was certain that being in the water was a different matter for sure - she felt like every inch of her body was covered in goose bumps.

She was taking the time to think about everything that had happened last night (and to procrastinate having to eat the fish she knew Peter was cooking for when she got back). She didn't regret it, but she was nervous. Nervous because she was terrible at relationships, nervous because she could never be the other Olivia, nervous because Peter had said he thought he might love her, nervous because she thought she might just feel the same way.

It was a lot to deal with sometimes, this crazy relationship on top of everything else in her life. She wasn't sure she would have made this much progress with Peter in a month as the amount they had made over the past few days - she supposed in some ways this 'trip' might have been a blessing in disguise. She just wished it could have been a blessing with warm water, comfortable sleeping arrangements, and coffee.

"Olivia, are you still in there?" Peter asked, emerging from behind the trees and making his way over to her. She blushed and ducked away - she wasn't wearing her underwear as she usually did in the pool, having wanted to keep them dry. She heard him chuckle, and the water splash as he followed her in. "You know that I saw it all last night?" he said. She shrugged slightly embarrassedly, as he came right up behind her and began massaging the conditioner into her scalp. She relaxed a little, though her body was still alert to him.

"You know, we've been out here for four nights now," Peter remarked.

"Wow … It feels like I've been out here for months," she said. "I miss Boston. I miss seeing Walter and Astrid every day, and doing paperwork in my office, and sleeping in my apartment, and drinking coffee, and driving along the city streets, and even Broyles."

"It can't be too much longer before they find us," Peter said. "I got the fire started up outside again - which wasn't easy as everything's damp, but we had enough wood stored in the cave that was dry. Someone might see the smoke."

"I hope so," she sighed as the conditioner was rinsed out of her hair, leaning her head on his chest and pulling him closer. He combed his fingers through her wet hair, then let them dance patterns across her back. She kissed him softly, lips tasting his gently as she made a soft humming noise in the back of her throat.

It wasn't much longer before things got a lot more heated between them. He ran his tongue against her bottom lip, before she granted him access and kissed him passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling closer to him.

As he began kissing along the tops of her breasts she moaned, eager to lose herself in the exhilarating feel of their bodies moving together once again.

… … …

"I love you."

"What?" she panicked slightly. They had just finished drying off by the fire, and were now pulling their clothes back on, Olivia stepping into her denim shorts and tugging her Northwestern t-shirt over her head, as Peter donned his jeans.

"Shh," he assured her. "I'm not expecting you to say anything back, and I know that usually you would be in a relationship with someone longer than this, but I never said it to _her_. And I just want you to know that I do love you. _You,_ Olivia." He kissed her hair softly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

"You know I can't say that back," she whispered.

"I know," he replied. "And that's okay Olivia. As long as you're not going to run away from this.""I'm not going anywhere," she said with an honest smile. "I promise, Peter. We'll both have to try, but we _can_ make this work. I believe that."

"Good," he replied, kissing her softly. She could feel a warm feeling rushing through her. Peter loved her. Maybe she loved him too - she didn't know. For now she just wanted to stay here in his arms, letting the happiness pump through her body pleasantly. She kissed him more passionately, tasting him, exploring him, letting him do the same to her.

They stood like that for a moment, before Peter pulled away gently.

Olivia pouted, and he chuckled. "We need to put more antiseptic on your arm," he said, gesturing towards his torn shirt that was still firmly wrapped just below her elbow.

Olivia complied silently, letting him unwrap the material and pour some of their clean water onto a cloth to begin washing it.

"It's healing well," Peter remarked approvingly. She smiled.

"Maybe we could just stay out here forever and ever, and let the rest of the world forget us, and we could forget them."

Peter smiled too. "That sounds something like heaven," he replied. "But we've got not one but two universes to save. I don't think we can really just hand that responsibility to anyone else."

"Too bad," she said jokingly, wincing slightly as he dabbed antiseptic onto her wound. "Plus, I don't think I can last much longer without a comfortable bed."

"I agree," he said wholeheartedly. "It really makes you feel for people that have never slept on a mattress before, never tasted chocolates and candies, never wrapped a warm blanket around themselves on freezing cold nights. Those little things that we take for granted, that they will never get to experience."

Olivia watched him as he said it, his eyes filled with a sadness that she recognised. She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Yes," she agreed sadly. "It does."

Peter finished wrapping her bandage firmly and stood up, holding his hand out to her and helping her up too. As she stood she was hit by a sudden wave of vertigo. She staggered, her head pounding as if every heartbeat was echoed inside her skull. Peter held her up, and she leaned on his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah," she reassured him. "Just got really dizzy when I stood up there, and a bit of a headache."

"You haven't been drinking enough water," Peter said, still concerned. He sat her back down on the grassy forest floor, ducking inside The Scoop and emerging with a full bottle of clean water. She drank from it obediently, her head hurting too much to put up much of a fuss. "It wouldn't hurt to eat a bit as well," he urged her. She groaned.

"I don't like fish."

"You said yourself that they weren't so bad. Come on Olivia, do you want to pass out again?"

That was enough to convince her. Seeing the resigned look on her face, Peter pulled a few of the thin, white chunks of meat from skewers over the fire, brushing a little bit of ash from one. Olivia ate them without complaint, deciding that they actually weren't _that _bad. For fish.

"Do you hear that?" Peter asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Hear what?"

"Shh, just listen," he instructed. She did, straining her ears for the sounds of something other than leaves rustling and the fire cracking. It was a few minutes before she heard anything out of the ordinary, but when she did, there was no mistaking the sounds that were being carried on the wind.

They were other human voices - and they were calling their names.

… … …

**A/N:** This is the second to last chapter - the last one should be up within the next week, I hope.

Don't forget about Fringe Friday! If you've seen the advertisements for 'Subject 13', you'll know that it does _not_ look like one to be missed!

Review? I've had a headache for the past few days that is not dissimilar to the one I wrote Olivia, so maybe with a stroke of luck it would make me feel better?

(Or maybe it wouldn't, but I _do_ like reviews a lot!)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Okay, last chapter here - I hope you all enjoy!

I own nothing but the plot bunnies that run wild in my head. It's a hard job, keeping them all in check - they're very temperamental, and don't take kindly to being cooped up.

Can I take this moment here to just say how much I appreciate every single one of your reviews? This story has gotten a better response than I could have ever imagined, and I really appreciate everything you've all said - they honestly make me smile so much, and they motivate me to write faster!

I'm from Australia, excuse the different spelling, blah blah.

… … …

"_Shh, just listen," he instructed. She did, straining her ears for the sounds of something other than leaves rustling and the fire cracking. It was a few minutes before she heard anything out of the ordinary, but when she did, there was no mistaking the sounds that were being carried on the wind._

_They were other human voices - and they were calling their names._

"HERE!" Olivia yelled. "WE'RE OVER HERE!"

"The wind's blowing in the wrong direction," Peter growled.

"I'm not going to just stand here and let them get away!" Olivia cried. The voices were coming from above their heads, outside of The Scoop. "Come on!" she cried, and began scaling the face of the cliff.

"Olivia, don't be stupid, you can't climb up there!" Peter called. "Just two minutes ago you almost fainted!"

"We can't just let them pass by us!" Olivia said in frustration. "Now when we're so close to getting home!" She impatiently brushed a tear from her cheek, annoyed at herself.

"Hey," Peter said, cupping her face with his hand. She looked down.

"I'm being stupid," she muttered. She smiled slightly.

"No, you're being human," he whispered. "I know how you feel - I want to go home to."

"You're not crying," she pointed out. He shrugged.

"It's because I'm so macho and manly."

She laughed, turning her head away as a smile worked it's way onto her face. Peter smiled too, kissing her softly for a moment.

"We should keep yelling, I think," he suggested. Olivia nodded.

"OVER HERE!" she yelled. "WE'RE DOWN HERE!"

"_I think I hear them!_" a voce in the distance said excitedly. Peter and Olivia glanced at each other elatedly.

"YES, WE'RE HERE!" Peter yelled. "DOWN IN THE GODDAMN VALLEY!" he glanced at Olivia. "My throat hurts," he said. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

A lone figure appeared at the top of their cliff, looking down at them. Olivia felt like she might have hugged them if they'd been close enough - just seeing another human being was enough to make her feel relieved. "Are you Agent Dunham and Mr Bishop?" he asked.

"No, we're just a couple of people who thought it would be fun to see how long we could last in the middle of a forest," Peter joked. The man grinned.

"I'm agent Carmen," he said. "You've had just about all of the Boston Federal Building running in circles for days now." He pulled out a satellite cell phone. "I've found them," he said. "They're about twenty-five miles northeast of the camp, in a valley. Requesting helicopter for removal."

"We don't need a helicopter," Peter and Olivia said simultaneously. Agent Carmen grinned.

"Maybe you don't, but I sure as hell don't want to trek back out of here - do you have any idea how many goddamn mountains there can be in twenty five miles? I've been walking since morning."

"Hey!" a voice called from the distance. "Carmen! Have you got them?" Another figure emerged from behind the trees - one that Olivia recognised as Agent Amy Jessup. "Hey Peter, hey Olivia," she called down to them happily.

"Hi Amy," they replied, smiling at a familiar face.

"Are the two of you okay? Do you need medical attention?" she asked.

"Yes," Peter said at the exact same time as Olivia said no. They glared at each other. "Your arm is wounded," he pointed out.

"You said yourself that is was healing well," she contradicted. "It's fine."

"You're malnourished Olivia. You almost passed out five minutes ago."

"I'm fine, it was just a head rush," she said. "I'll just eat some food when we get back."

He rolled his eyes. Amy chuckled, as Agent Carmen watched with amusement. "The chopper should be here in thirty minutes," Carmen said. "In the meantime, why don't you help us down this cliff and explain why you're not dead," he suggested. They nodded.

"Just one thing," Olivia said. "When the helicopter comes, can you tell them to bring me some coffee?"

… … …

When Astrid first saw the two of them, the first thing she did was think _yes! They finally got together!_ (It was pretty obvious). The second was think _gosh, she looks tiny. _The third was to hug them tightly.

"Are you two okay?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," Peter replied. "Besides Olivia's cut up arm and dehydration, we're peachy." Olivia elbowed him.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," she assured Astrid. They had been taken straight to the Boston Federal Building (after a brief stint in the hospital, much to Olivia's dismay), where she had been waiting.

"We've been so worried about you," Astrid said. "I know that you both probably want to go home, but you're both going to have to make a brief stop off at the lab first. Walter has been worried out of his mind about both of you. He'd been a bit of a handful."

"Sorry Astrid," Peter apologised. "I wouldn't wish four days with Walter on anyone." They walked up to the car, everyone hesitating for a moment. Peter and Olivia had a silent argument over who would drive, which Astrid resolved by climbing into the front seat while they weren't paying attention. Olivia, not to be outdone by Peter, climbed into the front seat beside Astrid, leaving Peter to take the back. Astrid watched them with amusement. They were downright adorable.

Not that she'd ever say that to their faces.

By the time they'd reached the lab, Peter and Olivia had filled Astrid in on most of what went on over that past four days (though Astrid got the feeling that they were leaving out a few _key details_). They entered the lab slightly reluctantly, unsure of what would be waiting for them - Walter was unpredictable at the best of times. As it turned out, he was not alone in the lab.

"Aunt Liv, Uncle Peter! I knew you'd be okay!"

Olivia smiled, picking up the little girl as she rushed into her arms. "Of course we're fine Ella," she said, kissing her on the cheek. "We just got a little lost, that's all."

"A little lost for four days and in the midst of a crazy storm," Rachel said slightly weakly, walking over to her. Olivia embraced her with her free arm. "Oh Liv, I was so worried."

"We're fine," she assured her.

"Thanks for looking after her," Rachel turned to Peter, hugging him in a short embrace. He kissed her cheek politely.

"Oh, Olivia doesn't need anyone to look after her," Peter laughed. "Right, Liv?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, a small smile escaping onto her face. They all laughed. "Where's Walter?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not sure," Rachel replied. "After inviting us over to greet you, he's been a little … strange."

"You don't say?" Peter said dryly.

"Yeah … talking about something to do with 'another universe', and some people he called 'FauxLivia' and 'Walternate'. It was a little …" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh, it was probably another of his crazy dreams," Peter said smoothly. "He has a habit of confusing them with real life." He laughed. "That man certainly has an active imagination."

"And an impossible one," Rachel agreed. "I mean, shape changing soldiers from another universe, and Peter having an accidental relationship with Olivia's doppelganger? Please!" They all laughed rather nervously, relieved when Walter came bursting into the room.

"Son! Agent Dunham!" he cried in joy, rushing over and practically launching himself onto Peter. "Are you okay?"

"C-can't … bre-ath," Peter chocked. Walter let go of him hurriedly, turning to Olivia and hugging her slightly gentler.

"We're fine Walter," she said.

"The two of you finally had sex!" he said delightedly.

Everyone was silent.

"Uh, Walter …" Peter began.

"Don't deny it son, are you telling me Agent Dunham gave herself that hickey on her neck?"

"Ah, I've missed your powers of observation and lack of tact Walter," Peter said sarcastically. "Okay, time to leave."

"We should get going too …" Rachel said, a slightly gleeful look on her face. "I'll drive you home 'Livia."

"Bye," Astrid said, waving to them. Olivia smiled at her in a silent thankyou, bounced Ella a bit higher on her hip, and turned to Peter.

"I'll call you," he promised slightly awkwardly. After the past four days with each other it didn't seem a sufficient goodbye, but with Astrid, Walter and Rachel's eagerly watching eyes, there was little else they could say. Olivia nodded, smiling at him.

"Okay," she agreed. Their eyes locked for a minute, sharing something silent between them, before Olivia turned towards the doors of the lab.

"That hickey looks a bit painful son," Walter stage-whispered to Peter, who rolled his eyes and put his head in his hands. "I hope you didn't hurt Agent Dunham."

Olivia turned back towards them, a twinkle in her eyes. "Just wait until you see the bite marks on his shoulder," she said cheekily, leaving everyone else in the room speechless as she gave them all a wicked grin and carried Ella through the doors.

"Aunt Liv, what's a hickey?" was the last thing they heard from them. Astrid chuckled, turning away. She'd have to ask Olivia how she explained _that_ one to the little girl.

… … …

_Six weeks later._

"What should I wear?" she asked into the phone, twirling a stray strand of hair around her finger, a small smile gracing her face.

"_Well, what are you wearing right now?"_

"Nothing. I'm in the bath." She sipped a glass of red wine, the hot water soothing her muscles after a long, hard day at work. Ever since her four nights in the wilderness, she'd vowed to herself to never take small comforts like a mattress and hot water for granted ever again.

"_Well you could wear that."_

She laughed. "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, but the people wherever we're going may not so much."

"_Too bad. Wear something casual, okay? Nothing too fancy. I hope you don't take too long in there, I'll be at your place in about thirty minutes."_

"Don't worry, I wont be long. What could possibly take up my time in the bathtub?"

"_I can think of one thing you could be doing,"_ he said suggestively. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I don't do _that_ while I'm in the bath tub," she said cheekily. "The bed, yes, but not the bath tub."

Her words had the exact effect she was hoping for, as he groaned, clearly wishing he was in the bath tub with her in that point of time.

"Need something taken care of?" she asked seductively.

"Olivia, stop having phone sex with Peter and get out of the bath, I need a shower!" Rachel yelled, banging on the door. Ever since Rachel and Ella had come to live in Olivia's apartment since she'd been missing, they'd never left. Apparently Greg had decided he did _not_ want to reconcile - he wanted Rachel and Ella out of his life altogether. Despite the pain it had put Rachel and Ella through Olivia hadn't minded, not only because she'd never like Greg but because with Rachel and Ella in the apartment she'd been thinking less and less about her alternate living there. Rachel and Ella were a part of her life _she'd_ never touched, and having them live with her was like cleansing the place of her. It had also provided a good reason for Peter and Olivia to go back to his house instead of hers - she may have forgiven him for what had happened with FauxLivia, but forgetting wasn't going to come as quickly. She still slept in her guest bedroom instead of the master bedroom (insisting to Rachel that she had 'needed a change'), but she thought less and less of it.

"I've got to go, I'll see you soon," Olivia said into the phone.

"_Alright,"_ he replied. _"Bye 'Livia."_

"Bye." She hung up and got out of the bath, wrapping herself in a towel and walking to her room, letting Rachel have a shower. Rifling through the wardrobe, she pulled out some blue skinny jeans and a creamy white sweater that hung from her frame nicely. Though she'd definitely put on enough weight in the past few weeks that she no longer looked like a skeleton with skin, due to her unpredictable hours and tendency to forget about food she still hadn't reached the weight she'd been before her stint Over There. Living with Rachel and Ella helped - taking care of them reminded her to take care of herself from time to time. That, and Peter would get her a chocolate bar or a muffin with her coffee every time.

Just as she finished blow-drying her hair and adding the faintest hint of makeup to her eyelashes, something occurred to her. She stopped, horrified. No. She had to be wrong. Must be wrong.

But what if she wasn't?

… … …

After the movie they saw had finished, Peter waited for her to come out of the bathroom, standing beside the candy bar and munching on an overpriced Twinkie. She was taking her sweet time in there - enough time for him to consider breaking down the door and demanding to know where she was. But somehow, he had a feeling that particular plan wouldn't go over well. So he contented himself with people-watching, and thinking about her.

He though about her a lot. Ever since they'd returned to Boston, their 'relationship' had been going fairly well. There was still the odd awkward moment when something reminded either of them of _her_, but they were becoming less and less frequent. Peter had also been trying to make up for the fact that the first time they had sex was against the wall of a cave - not that he was really complaining, but it wasn't really the romantic time he had envisioned for them. This was their second official date - between cases and saving the universe they didn't often get time to go out too often. But they had several informal dates, most of which consisted of a bottle of whiskey and much rolling around in the sheets, or talking a walk around the Harvard campus, sipping coffee.

She was happier too - he could see that. Not the way _she_ had been happy, but he saw her smile more often, laugh a little more freely, sigh a little less heavily. She was still the same Olivia Dunham that no one else could be, but he liked knowing that (for real this time) he could make things a little brighter for her.

How long could one woman _take_ in the bathroom?

Just as he was about to try calling her cell phone, the door opened and she walked out.

"Thank god, I was about to barge in there and demand to know what was taking you so long," he said with a laugh. She didn't respond. "Olivia? Olivia, what's wrong? _Olivia?_"

She shook her head and grabbed him by the hand, marching him out of the cinema and into the car park. He couldn't read the emotions playing out across her face, but he was willing to bet it couldn't be anything good. "What's going on?" he asked concernedly, stopping walking and pulling her back towards him, cupping her face in his hands. "Olivia. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Um," she whispered. "I … had a suspicion. But I didn't get to confirm it until I went to the bathroom. I know I should have waited until I got home, but, I just couldn't …"

"What?" he asked, confused. A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb. "Olivia, what's happening?"

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. "Peter, I don't know if I can do this. Now is _not_ the right time …"

"Do what?" he asked, somewhere between fear, frustration and concernment. She turned her face away out of his hands and bit her lip, more tears slipping down her face. "I brought this when we went to the supermarket before the movie," she said quietly, putting her hand in her pocket and pulling something out. "Peter, I'm so sorry." She placed the object in his hand.

He had seen enough movies to know exactly what it was. And exactly what those two pink lines meant. He stared at it for the longest time, his brain trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He looked back up at her teary face, then back down at it.

There was no mistaking. FBI agent extraordinaire, Cortexiphan child and his girlfriend Olivia Dunham, was very much pregnant.

**The end.**

… … …

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the evil ending! I couldn't help myself! Wether or not this fic gets a sequel is all up to you - review me telling me if you want a sequel, or if you want me to leave it there. If I do write one it will probably be Polivia-fluff-filled, plus some sort of case to complicate matters a bit. I definitely wont be following the AltLivia/baby storyline (even though I do love it), because this is very much AU after Marionette.

Also, I apologise for the delay in posting this - I'm grounded, and it's a miracle I was able to get on the computer to post this at all. It also means that if I do a sequel, it wont be posted for about a month.

So, now this is your last chance to tell me what your opinion on this story is! Did you like it, hate it, want to murder me in my sleep for it …?


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